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FOUR   PLAYS   FOR   DANCERS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON    •    CHICAGO   -    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


^ouuwXj;<e>^^ 


FOUR    PLAYS 
FOR    DANCERS 


BY 

W.  B.  YEATS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1921 

All  rights  reserved 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


Copyright,  1921, 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  October,  1921. 


FERRIS  PRINTING  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


SRL£ 
URC 


PREFACE 

Two  of  these  plays  must  be  opened  by  the  unfolding 
and  folding  of  the  cloth,  a  substitute  for  the  rising  of 
the  curtain,  and  all  must  be  closed  by  it.  The  others, 
"The  Dreaming  of  the  Bones"  and  "Calvary,"  should 
have  the  same  opening,  unless  played  after  plays  of  the 
same  kind,  when  it  may  seem  a  needless  repetition.  All 
must  be  played  to  the  accompaniment  of  drum  and 
zither  and  flute,  but  on  no  account  must  the  words  be 
spoken  "through  music"  in  the  fashionable  way;  and 
the  players  must  move  a  little  stiffly  and  gravely  like 
marionettes  and,  I  think,  to  the  accompaniment  of  drum 
taps.  I  felt,  however,  during  the  performance  of  "The 
Hawk's  Well,"  the  only  one  played  up  to  this,  that 
there  was  much  to  discover.  Should  I  make  a  serious 
attempt,  which  I  may  not,  being  rather  tired  of  the 
theatre,  to  arrange  and  supervise  performances,  the 
dancing  will  give  me  most  trouble,  for  I  know  but 
vaguely  what  I  want  I  do  not  want  any  existing  form 
of  stage  dancing,  but  something  with  a  smaller  gamut 
of  expression,  something  more  reserved,  more  self- 
controlled,  as  befits  performers  within  arm's  reach  of 
their  audience. 

The  designs  by  Mr.  Dulac  represent  the  masks  and 
costumes  used  in  the  first  performance  of  "The  Hawk's 

V 


vl  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Well."  The  beautiful  mask  of  Cuchulain  may,  I  think, 
serve  for  Dervorgilla,  and  if  I  write  plays  and  organ- 
ize performances  on  any  scale  and  with  any  system, 
I  shall  hope  for  a  small  number  of  typical  masks,  each 
capable  of  use  in  several  plays.  The  face  of  the  speaker 
should  be  as  much  a  work  of  art  as  the  lines  that  he 
speaks  or  the  costume  that  he  wears,  that  all  may  be 
as  artificial  as  possible.  Perhaps  in  the  end  one  would 
write  plays  for  certain  masks.  If  some  fine  sculptor 
should  create  for  my  "Calvary,"  for  instance,  the  masks 
of  Judas,  of  Lazarus,  and  of  Christ,  would  not  this 
suggest  other  plays  now,  or  many  generations  from 
now,  and  possess  one  cannot  tell  what  philosophical 
virility?  The  mask,  apart  from  its  beauty,  may  sug- 
gest new  situations  at  a  moment  when  the  old  ones 
seem  exhausted;  "The  Only  Jealousy  of  Emer"  was 
written  to  find  what  dramatic  effect  one  could  get  out 
of  a  mask,  changed  while  the  player  remains  upon  the 
stage  to  suggest  a  change  of  personality.  At  the  end 
of  this  book  there  is  some  music  by  Mr.  Rummel, 
which  my  friends  tell  me  is  both  difficult  and  beautiful 
for  "The  Dreaming  of  the  Bones."  It  will  require, 
I  am  told,  either  a  number  of  flutes  of  which  the  flute- 
player  will  pick  now  one,  now  another,  or  an  elaborate 
modern  flute  which  would  not  look  in  keeping.  I  pre- 
fer the  first  suggestion.  I  notice  that  Mr.  Rummel 
has  writtEm  no  music  for  the  dance,  and  I  have  some 
vague  memory  that  when  we  talked  it  over  in  Paris  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  without  the  dancer's  help.  There 
is  also  music  for  "The  Hawk's  Well"  by  Mr.  Dulac, 


PREFACE  vil 

which  is  itself  an  exposition  of  method,  for  it  was  writ- 
ten after  a  number  of  rehearsals  and  for  instruments 
that  have  great  pictorial  effect. 

"The  Dreaming  of  the  Bones"  and  "The  Only  Jeal- 
ousy of  Emer,"  bound  together  as  Two  Plays  for  Danc- 
ers, were  printed  on  my  sister's  hand-press  at  Dundrum, 
County  Dublin,  and  published  in  a  limited  edition  in  the 
spring  of  19 19,  while  "At  the  Hawk's  Well"  makes 
a  part  of  the  edition  of  The  JV'ild  Swans  at  Coole, 
printed  at  the  same  press  in  19 17,  though  not  of  the 
later  edition  of  that  book  published  by  Macmillan.  "At 
the  Hawk's  Well"  and  "The  Only  Jealousy  of  Emer" 
are  the  first  and  last  plays  of  a  series  of  four  dealing 
with  Cuchulain's  life.  The  others  are  my  "Green 
Helmet"  and  "Baile's  Strand."  "Calvary"  has  not 
hitherto  been  published. 

That  I  might  write  "The  Dreaming  of  the  Bones" 
Mr.  W.  A.  Henderson  with  great  kindness  wrote  out 
for  me  all  historical  allusions  to  "Dervorgilla" ;  but 
neither  that  nor  any  of  these  plays  could  have  existed 
if  Mr.  Edmond  Dulac  had  not  taught  me  the  value  and 
beauty  of  the  mask  and  rediscovered  how  to  design  and 
make  it. 

W.  B.  YEATS. 

July  1920. 


CONTENTS 


At  the  Hawk's  Well        .... 
The  Only  Jealousy  of  Emer    . 
The  Dreaming  of  the  Bones    . 

Calvary 

Note    on    the    First    Performance    of    "At 

Hawk's  Well" 

Music  for  "At  the  Hawk's  Well"  . 
Note  on  "The  Only  Jealousy  of  Emer" 
Music  for  "The  Dreaming  of  the  Bones" 
Note  on  "The  Dreaming  of  the  Bones"  . 
Note  on  "Calvary" 


the 


PAGE 
1 

25 
51 
69 

83 
89 
103 
107 
127 
133 


IX 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Guardian  of  the  Well  in  "At  the  Hawk's 

Well"         .......     FroTitispiece 

Design  for  Black  Cloth  used  in  'At  the  Hawk's  Well"     .       4 


Musician  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well" 
Old  Man  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well"       . 
Mask  for  Old  Man  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well"  . 
Mask  for  Young  Man  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well" 
Young  Man  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well"  . 


7 

9 

10 

13 

15 


a:i 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL 


PERSONS   OF   THE    PLAY 

Three  Musicians   {their  faces  made  up  to  resemble 

masks) . 
The  Guardian  of  the  Well  {zdth  face  made  up  to 

resemble  a  mask). 
An  Old  Man  {zveariug  a  mask). 
A  Young  Man  {wearing  a  mask). 

The   Time — the  Irish  Heroic  Age. 

The  stage  is  any  bare  space  before  a  zvall  against 
•which  stands  a  patterned  screen.  A  drum  and  a  gong 
and  a  zither  have  beoi  laid  close  to  the  screen  before 
the  play  begins.  If  necessary,  they  can  be  carried  in, 
after  the  audience  is  seated,  by  the  First  .Musician,  who 
also  can  attend  to  the  lights  if  there  is  any  special  light- 
ing. JFe  had  two  lanterns  upon  posts — designed  by 
Mr.  Dulac — at  the  outer  corners  of  the  stage,  but  they 
did  not  give  enough  light,  and  we  found  it  better  to 
play  by  the  light  of  a  large  chandelier.  Indeed  I  think, 
so  far  as  my  present  experience  goes,  that  the  most 
elective  lighting  is  the  lighting  we  are  most  accustomed 
to  in  our  rooms.  These  masked  players  seem  stranger 
when  there  is  no  mechanical  means  of  separating  them 
from  us.  The  First  Musician  carries  with  him  a  folded 
black  cloth  and  goes  to  the  centre  of  the  stage  towards 
the  front  and  stands  motionless,  the  folded  cloth 
hanging  from  between  his  hands.  The  two  musicians 
enter  and,  after  standing  a  moment  at  either  side  of  the 

3 


4  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

stage,   go    towards   him   and  slowly   unfold   the   cloth, 
singing  as  they  do  so; 

^       I  call  to  the  eye  of  the  mind 

A  well  long  choked  up  and  dry 
And  boughs  long  stripped  by  the  wind, 
And  I  call  to  the  mind's  eye 
Pallor  of  an  Ivory  face, 
Its  lofty  dissolute  air, 
A  man  climbing  up  to  a  place 
The  salt  sea  wind  has  swept  bare. 
As  they  unfold  the  cloth,  they  go  backzvard  a  little 
so  that  the  stretched  cloth  and  the  wall  make  a  triangle 


Design  for  Black   Cloth   used   in  "At  the   Hawk's  Well." 

with  the  First  Musician  at  the  apex  supporting  the 
centre  of  the  cloth.  On  the  black  cloth  is  a  gold  pattern 
suggesting  a  hawk.  The  Second  and  Third  Musicians 
now  slowly  fold  up  the  cloth  again,  pacing  with  a 
rJiythmic  movement  of  the  arms  towards  the  First 
Musician  and  singing: 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL  5 

What  were  his  life  soon  done ! 
Would  he  lose  by  that  or  win? 
A  mother  that  saw  her  son 
Doubled  over  a  speckled  shin, 
Cross-grained  with   ninety  years, 
Would  cry,    "How  little  worth 
Were  all  my  hopes  and  fears 
And  the  hard  pain  of  his  birth!" 

The  words  "a  speckled  shin"  are  familiar  to  readers 
of  Irish  legendary  stories  in  descriptions  of  old  men  bent 
double  over  the  fire.  While  the  cloth  has  been  spread 
out,  the  Guardian  of  the  Well  has  entered  and  is  now 
crouching  upon  the  ground.  She  is  entirely  covered  by 
a  black  cloak.  The  three  musicians  have  taken  their 
places  against  the  wall  beside  their  instruments  of 
music;  they  will  accompany  the  movements  of  the 
players  with  gong  or  drum  or  zither. 

First  Musician  {singing) 

The  boughs  of  the  hazel  shake. 
The  sun  goes  down  In  the  west. 

Second  Musician  {singing) 

The  heart  would  be  always  awake, 
The  heart  would  turn  to  its  rest 

{They  now  go  to  one  side  of  the  stage  rolling  up 
the  cloth.  A  Girl  has  taken  her  place  by  a  square  blue 
cloth  representing  a  well.     She  is  motionless.) 


FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

First  Musician  {speaking) 

Night  falls; 

The  mountain-side  grows  dark; 

The  withered  leaves  of  the  hazel 

Half-choke  the  dry  bed  of  the  well; 

The  guardian  of  the  well  is  sitting 

Upon  the  old  grey  stone  at  its  side, 

iWorn  out  from  raking  its  dry  bed, 

Worn  out  from  gathering  up  the  leaves. 

Her  heavy  eyes 

Know  nothing,  or  but  look  upon  stone. 

The  wind  that  blows  out  of  the  sea 

Turns  over  the  heaped-up  leaves  at  her  side; 

They  rustle  and  diminish. 

Second  Musician 
I  am  afraid  of  this  place. 

Both  Musicians  \singing) 

"Why  should  I  sleep,"  the  heart  cries, 
"For  the  wind,  the  salt  wind,  the  sea  wind 
Is  beating  a  cloud  through  the  skies; 
I  would  wander  always  like  the  wind." 
{An  Old  Man  enters  through  the  audience.) 

First  Musician  {speaking) 

That  old  man  climbs  up  hither. 
Who  has  been  watching  by  his  well 
These  fifty  years. 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL 


Musician  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well." 


8  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

He  is  all  doubled  up  with  age; 
The  old  thorn-trees  are  doubled  so 
Among  the  rocks  where  he  is  climbing. 
{The  Old  Man  stands  for  a  moment  motionless  by 
the  side  of  the  stage  zcitli  bozved  head.     He  lifts  his 
head  at  the  sound  of  a  drum  tap.     He  goes  towards 
the  front  of  tJie  stage  moving  to  the  taps  of  the  drum. 
He  crouches  and  moves  his  hands  as  if  making  a  fire. 
His  movements,  like  those  of  the  other  persons  of  the 
play,  suggest  a  marionette.) 

First  Musician  [speaking) 
He  has  made  a  little  heap  of  leaves; 
He  lays  the  dry  sticks  on  the  leaves 
And,  shivering  with  cold,  he  has  taken  up 
The  fire-stick  and  socket  from  its  hole.^ 
He  whirls  it  round  to  get  a  flame; 
And  now  the  dry  sticks  take  the  fire 
And  now  the  fire  leaps  up  and  shines 
Upon  the  hazels  and  the  empty  well. 

Musicians   {singing) 
^^'O  wind,  O  salt  wind,  O  sea  wind!" 
Cries  the  heart,  "it  is  time  to  sleep; 
Why  wander  and  nothing  to  find?       / 
Better  grow  old  and  sleep."  l/^ 

Old  Man   {speaking) 
Why  don't  you  speak  to  me?     Why  don't  you  say 
"Are  you  not  weary  gathering  those  sticks? 
Are  not  your  fingers  cold?"     You  have  not  one  word. 
While  yesterday  you  spoke  three  times.     You  said : 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL 


Old  Man  in  '-/it  the  Hawk's  Well.' 


lo  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

"The  well  is  full  of  hazel  leaves."     You  said: 
"The  wind  is  from  the  west."     And  after  that: 
"If  there  is  rain  it's  likely  there'll  be  mud." 
To-day  you  are  as  stupid  as  a  fish, 
No,  worse,  worse,  being  less  lively  and  as  dumb. 
{He  goes  nearer.) 


Mask  for  Old  Man  in  "At  tKe  Hawk's  Well." 

Your  eyes  are  dazed  and  heavy.     If  the  Sidhe 

Must  have  a  guardian  to  clean  out  the  well 

And  drive  the  cattle  off,  they  might  choose  somebody 

That  can  be  pleasant  and  companionable 

Once  in  the  day.     Why  do  you  stare  like  that? 

You  had  that  glassy  look  about  the  eyes 

Last  time  it  happened.     Do  you  know  anything? 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL  ii 

It  is  enough  to  drive  an  old  man  crazy 
To  look  all  day  upon  these  broken  rocks, 
And  ragged  thorns,  and  that  one  stupid  face, 
And  speak  and  get  no  answer. 

Young  Man 

{who  has  entered  through  tlic  audience  during  the  last 
speech) 

Then  speak  to  me, 
For  youth  is  not  more  patient  than  old  age; 
And  though  I  have  trod  the  rocks  for  half  a  day 
I  cannot  find  what  I  am  looking  for. 

Old  Man 

Who  speaks? 
Who  comes  so  suddenly  into  this  place 
Where  nothing  thrives?     If  I  may  judge  by  the  gold 
On  head  and  feet  and  glittering  in  your  coat, 
You  are  not  of  those  who  hate  the  living  world. 

Young  Man 
I  am  named  Cuchulain,  I  am  Sualtam's  son. 

Old  Man 
I  have  nev^er  heard  that  name. 

Cuchulain 

It  is  not  unknown. 
I  have  an  ancient  house  beyond  the  sea. 


12  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Old  Man 
What  mischief  brings  you  hither,  you  are  like  those 
Who  are  crazy  for  the  shedding  of  men's  blood, 
And  for  the  love  of  women? 

Young  Man 

A  rumour  has  led  me, 
A  story  told  over  the  wine  towards  dawn. 


Mask  for  Young  Man  in  "At  the   Hawk's  Well." 

I  rose  from  table,  found  a  boat,  spread  sail 
And  with  a  lucky  wind  under  the  sail 
Crossed  waves  that  have  seemed  charmed,  and  found 
this  shore. 

Old  Man 
There  Is  no  house  to  sack  among  these  hills 
Nor  beautiful  woman  to  be  carried  off. 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL  13 

Young  Man 

You  should  be  native  here,  for  that  rough  tongue 

Matches  the  barbarous  spot.    You  can,  it  may  be, 

Lead  me  to  what  I  seek,  a  well  wherein 

Three  hazels  drop  their  nuts  and  withered  leaves, 

And  where  a  solitary  girl  keeps  watch 

Among  grey  boulders.     He  who  drinks,  they  say. 

Of  that  miraculous  water  lives  for  ever. 

Old  Man 

And  are  there  not  before  your  eyes  at  the  Instant 
Grey  boulders  and  a  solitary  girl 
And  three  stripped  hazels? 

Young  Man 

But  there  is  no  well. 

Old  Man 

Can  you  see  nothing  yonder? 

Young  Man 

I  but  see 
A  hollow  among  stones  half-full  of  leaves. 

Old  Man 

And  do  you  think  so  great  a  gift  is  found 
By  no  more  toil  than  spreading  out  a  sail, 
And  climbing  a  steep  hill?    Oh,  folly  of  youth, 
Why  should  that  hollow  place  fill  up  for  you. 


14  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

That  will  not  fill  for  me?    I  have  lain  in  wait 
For  more  than  fifty  years  to  find  it  empty, 
Or  but  to  find  the  stupid  wind  of  the  sea 
Drive  round  the  perishable  leaves. 

Young  Man 

So  it  seems 
There  is  some  moment  when  the  water  fills  it. 

Old  Man 

A  secret  moment  that  the  holy  shades 

That  dance  upon  the  desolate  mountam  know, 

And  not  a  living  man,  and  when  it  comes 

The  water  has  scarce  plashed  before  it  is  gone. 

Young  Man 

I  will  stand  here  and  wait.     Why  should  the  luck 
Of  Sualtam's  son  desert  him  now?    For  never 
Have  I  had  long  to  wait  for  anything. 

Old  Man 

No !     Go  from  this  accursed  place,  this  place 
Belongs  to  me,  that  girl  there  and  those  others, 
Deceivers  of  men. 

Young  Man 

And  who  are  you  who  rail 
Upon  those  dancers  that  all  others  bless? 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL 


15 


Young  Man  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well." 


i6  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Old  Man 

One  whom  the  dancers  cheat,     I  came  like  you 
When  young  In  body  and  In  mind,  and  blown 
By  what  had  seemed  to  me  a  lucky  sail. 
The  well  was  dry,  I  sat  upon-  its  edge, 
I  waited  the  miraculous  flood,  I  waited 
While  the  years  passed  and  withered  me  away. 
I  have  snared  the  birds  for  food  and  eaten  grass 
And  drunk  the  rain,  and  neither  in  dark  nor  shine 
Wandered  too  far  away  to  have  heard  the  plash, 
And  yet  the  dancers  have  deceived  me.     Thrice 
I  have  awakened  from  a  sudden  sleep 
To  find  the  stones  were  wet. 

Young  Man 

My  luck  is  strong, 
It  will  not  leave  me  waiting,  nor  will  they 
That  dance  among  the  stones  put  me  asleep; 
If  I  grow  drowsy  I  can  pierce  my  foot. 

Old  Man 

No,  do  not  pierce  It,  for  the  foot  Is  tender. 
It  feels  pain  much.     But  find  your  sail  again 
And  leave  the  well  to  me,  for  it  belongs 
To  all  that's  old  and  withered. 

Young  Man 

No,  I  stay. 
{The  Girl  gives  the  cry  of  the  hank.) 
There  Is  that  bird  again. 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL  17 

Old  Man 

There  is  no  bird. 

Young  Man 

It  sounded  like  the  sudden  cry  of  a  hawk, 

But  there's  no  wing  in  sight.     As  I  came  hither 

A  great  grey  hawk  swept  down  out  of  the  sky, 

And  though  I  have  good  hawks,  the  best  in  the  world 

I  had  fancied,  I  have  not  seen  its  like.     It  flew 

As  though  it  would  have  torn  me  with  its  beak. 

Or  blinded  me,  smiting  with  that  great  wing. 

I  had  to  draw  my  sword  to  drive  it  off, 

And  after  that  it  flew  from  rock  to  rock, 

I  pelted  it  with  stones,  a  good  half-hour, 

And  just  before  I  had  turned  the  big  rock  there 

And  seen  this  place,  it  seemed  to  vanish  away. 

Could  I  but  find  a  means  to  bring  it  down 

I'd  hood  it. 

Old  Man 

The  woman  of  the  Sidhe  herself, 
The  mountain  witch,  the  unappeasable  shadow, 
She  is  always  flitting  upon  this  mountain-side. 
To  allure  or  to  destroy.    When  she  has  shown 
Herself  to  the  fierce  women  of  the  hills 
Under  that  shape  they  offer  sacrifice 
And  arm  for  battle.     There  falls  a  curse 
On  all  who  have  gazed  in  her  unmoistened  eyes; 
So  get  you  gone  while  you  have  that  proud  step 
And  confident  voice,  for  not  a  man  alive 
Has  so  much  luck  that  he  can  play  with  it. 

C 


1 8  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Those  that  have  long  to.  live  should  fear  her  most, 

The  old  are  cursed  already.    That  curse  may  be 

Never  to  win  a  woman's  love  and  keep  it; 

Or  always  to  mix  hatred  in  the  love ; 

Or  it  may  be  that  she  will  kill  your  children, 

That  you  will  find  them,  their  throats  torn  and  bloody, 

Or  you  will  be  so-  maddened  that  you  kill  them 

With  your  own  hand. 

Young  Man 

Have  you  been  set  down  there 
To  threaten  all  who  come,  and  scare  them  off? 
You  seem  as  dried  up  as  the  leaves  and  sticks, 
As  though  you  had  no  part  in  life. 

{Girl  gives  hawk  cry  again.) 

That  cry! 
There  is  that  cry  again.     That  woman  made  it. 
But  why  does  she  cry  out  as  the  hawk  cries? 

Old  Man 

It  was  her  mouth,  and  yet  not  she,  that  cried. 
It  was  that  shadow  cried  behind  her  mouth; 
And  now  I  know  why  she  has  been  so  stupid 
All  the  day  through,  and  had  such  heavy  eyes. 
Look  at  her  shivering  now,  the  terrible  life 
Is  slipping  through  her  veins.     She  is  possessed. 
Who  knows  whom  she  will  murder  or  betray 
Before  she  awakes  in  ignorance  of  it  all, 
And  gathers  up  the  leaves!     But  they'll  be. wet; 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL  19 

The  water  will  have  come  and  gone  again; 
That  shivering  is  the  sign.     Oh,  get  you  gone, 
At  any  moment  now  I  shall  hear  it  bubble. 
If  you  are  good  you  will  leave  it.     I  am  old, 
And  if  I  do  not  drink  it  now,  will  never; 
I  have  been  watching  all  my  life  and  maybe 
Only  a  little  cupful  will  bubble  up. 

Young  Man 

I'll  take  It  in  my  hands.     We  shall  both  drink, 
And  even  If  there  are  but  a  few  drops, 
Share  them. 

Old  Man 

But  swear  that  I  may  drink  the  first; 
The  young  are  greedy,  and  If  you  drink  the  first 
You'll  drink  it  all.    Ah,  you  have  looked  at  her; 
She  has  felt  your  gaze  and  turned  her  eyes  on  us; 
I  cannot  bear  her  eyes,  they  are  not  of  this  world, 
Nor  moist,  nor  faltering;  they  are  no  girl's  eyes. 

{He  covers  his  head.  The  Guardian  of  the  Well 
throzvs  of  her  cloak  and  rises.  Her  dress  under  the 
cloak  suggests  a  hawk.) 

Young  Man 

Why  do  you  gaze  upon  me  with  the  eyes  of  a  hawk? 
I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  bird,  woman,  or  witch. 

{He  goes  to  the  side  of  the  well,  which  the  Guardian 
of  the  Well  has  left.) 


20  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Do  what  you  will,  I  shall  not  leave  this  place 
Till  I  have  grown  immortal  like  yourself. 

{He  has  sat  down,  the  Girl  has  begun  to  dance, 
moving  like  a  hawk.  The  Old  Man  sleeps.  The  dance 
goes  on  for  some  time.) 

Q^      First  Musician   {singing  or  half-singing) 
O  God  protect  me 
From  a  horrible  deathless  body 
Sliding  through  the  veins  of  a  sudden. 
( The  dance  goes  on  for  some  time.      The   Young 

Man  rises  slowly.) 

^  First  Musician  {speaking) 

The  madness  has  laid  hold  upon  him  now, 
For  he  grows  pale  and  staggers  to  his  feet. 
{The  dance  goes  on.) 

Young  Man 
Run  where  you  will, 

Grey  bird,  you  shall  be  perched  upon  my  wrist. 
Some  were  called  queens  and  yet  have  been  perched 
there. 
{The  dance  goes  on.) 

First  Musician  {speaking) 
I  have  heard  water  plash;  it  comes,  it  comes; 
It  glitters  among  the  stones  and  he  has  heard  the  plash; 
Look,  he  has  turned  his  head. 

( The  Hawk  has  gone  out.  The  Young  Man  drops 
his  spear  as  if  in  a  dream  and  goes  out.) 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL  21 

'^         Musicians  (singing) 
He  has  lost  what  may  not  be  found 
Till  men  heap  his  burial  mound 
And  all  the  history  ends. 
He  might  have  lived  at  his  ease, 
An  old  dog's  head  on  his  knees, 
Among  his  children  and  friends. 

(The  Old  Man  creeps  up  to  the  well.) 

Old  Man 

The  accursed  shadows  have  deluded  me. 
The  stones  are  dark  and  yet  the  well  is  empty; 
The  water  flowed  and  emptied  while  I  slept; 
You  have  deluded  me  my  whole  life  through. 
Accursed  dancers,  you  have  stolen  my  life. 
That  there  should  be  such  evil  in  a  shadow. 

Young  Man  (entering) 
She  has  fled  from  me  and  hidden  in  the  rocks. 

Old  Man 

She  has  but  led  you  from  the  fountain.     Look! 
The  stones  and  leaves  are  dark  where  it  has  flowed. 
Yet  there  is  not  a  drop  to  drink. 

(The  Musicians  cry   "Eofef"   "EofeT   and  strike 
gong.) 

Young  Man 

What  are  those  cries? 
What  is  that  sound  that  runs  along  the  hill? 
Who  are  they  that  beat  a  sword  upon  a  shield? 


22  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Old  Man 

She  has  roused  up  the  fierce  women  of  the  hills, 
Eofe,  and  all  her  troop,  to  take  your  life. 
And  never  till  you  are  lying  in  the  earth, 
Can  you  know  rest. 

Young  Man 

The  clash  of  arms  again  I 

Old  Man 

Oh,  do  not  go!  The  mountain  is  accursed; 
Stay  with  me,  I  have  nothing  more  to  lose, 
I  do  not  now  deceive  you. 

Young  Man 

I  will  face  them. 

{He  goes  out  no  longer  as  if  in  a  dream,  but 
shouldering  his  spear  and  calling) 

He  comes !   Cuchulain,  son  of  Sualtam,  comes ! 

(The  Musicians  stand  up,  one  goes  to  centre  with 
folded  cloth.  The  others  unfold  it.  While  they  do 
so  they  sing.  During  the  singing,  and  while  hidden  by 
the  cloth,  the  Old  Alan  goes  out.  JFhen  the  play  is 
performed  with  Mr.  Dulac's  music,  the  Musicians  do 
not  rise  or  unfold  the  cloth  till  after  they  have  sung 
the  words  "a  bitter  life.") 


AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL  23 

{Songs  for  the  unfolding  and  folding  of  the  cloth.) 

>      Come  to  me,  human  faces, 
Familiar  memories; 
I  have  found  hateful  eyes 
Among  the  desolate  places, 
Unfaltering,  unmoistened  eyes. 

Folly  alone  I  cherish, 

I  choose  it  for  my  share. 

Being  but  a  mouthful  of  air, 

I  am  content  to  perish, 

I  am  but  a  mouthful  of  sweet  air. 

0  lamentable  shadows, 
Obscurity  of  strife, 

1  choose  a  pleasant  life, 
Among  indolent  meadows; 
Wisdom  must  live  a  bitter  life, 

{They  then  fold  up  the  cloth,  again  singing.) 

"The  man  that  I  praise," 

Cries  out  the  empty  well, 

*'Lives  all  his  days 

Where  a  hand  on  the  bell 

Can  call  the  milch  cows 

To  the  comfortable  door  of  his  house. 

Who  but  an  idiot  would  praise 

Dry  stones  in  a  well?" 

"The  man  that  I  praise," 
Cries  out  the  leafless  tree. 


24  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

"Has  married  and  stays 

By  an  old  hearth,  and  he 

On  naught  has  set  store 

But  children  and  dogs  on  the  floor. 

Who  but  an  idiot  would  praise 

A  withered  tree?" 

{They  go  out.) 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER 


25 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

Three  Musicians  {their  faces  made  up  to  resemble 

masks) . 
The  Ghost  of  Cuchulain  {wearing  a  mask). 
The  Figure  of  Cuchulain  {wearing  a  mask). 
Emer  {masked,  or  their  faces  made  up  to 

EiTHNE  Inguba         resemble  masks). 
Woman  of  the  Sidhe  {wearing  a  mask). 

Enter  Musicians,  who  are  dressed  and  made  up  as 
in  ''At  the  Hawk's  JVell."  They  have  the  same 
musical  instruments,  which  can  either  be  already  upon 
the  stage  or  be  brought  in  by  the  First  Musician  before 
he  stands  in  the  centre  with  the  cloth  between  his  hands, 
or  by  a  player  when  the  cloth  is  unfolded.  The  stage 
as  before  can  be  against  the  wall  of  any  room,  and  the 
black  cloth  is  used  as  in  "At  the  Hawk's  Well." 

{Sotig  for  the  folding  and  unfolding  of  the  cloth.) 

First  Musician 

A  woman's  beauty  Is  like  a  white 
Frail  bird,  like  a  white  sea-bird  alone 
At  daybreak  after  stormy  night 
Between  two  furrows  upon  the  ploughed  land: 
A  sudden  storm  and  it  was  thrown 
Between  dark  furrows  upon  the  ploughed  land. 

27 


28  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

How  many  centuries  spent 
The  sedentary  soul 
In  toils  of  measurement 
Beyond  eagle  or  mole, 
Beyond  hearing  or  seeing, 
Or  Archimedes  guess. 
To  raise  into  being 
That  loveliness? 

A  strange  unserviceable  thing, 

A  fragile,  exquisite,  pale  shell, 

That  the  vast  troubled  waters  bring 

To  the  loud  sands  before  day  has  broken. 

The  storm  arose  and  suddenly  fell 

Amid  the  dark  before  day  had  broken. 

What  death?  what  discipline? 

What  bonds  no  man  could  unbind 

Being  imagined  within 

The  labyrinth  of  the  mind, 

What  pursuing  or  fleeing. 

What  wounds,  what  bloody  press 

Dragged  into  being 

This  loveliness? 

{When  the  cloth  is  folded  again  the  Musicians  take 
their  place  against  the  wall.  The  folding  of  the  cloth 
shows  on  one  side  of  the  stage  the  curtained  bed  or 
litter  on  which  lies  a  man  in  his  grave-clothes.  He 
wears  an  heroic  mask.  Another  man  with  exactly 
similar  clothes  and  mask  crouches  near  the  front. 
Emer  is  sitting  beside  the  bed.) 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER       29 

First  Musician  {speaking) 

I  call  before  the  eyes  a  roof 

With  cross-beams  darkened  by  smoke; 

A  fisher's  net  hangs  from  a  beam, 

A  long  oar  lies  against  the  wall. 

I  call  up  a  poor  fisher's  house; 

A  man  lies  dead  or  swooning, 

That  amorous  man, 

That  amorous,  violent  man,  renowned  Cuchulain, 

Queen  Emer  at  his  side. 

At  her  own  bidding  all  the  rest  have  gone; 

But  now  one  comes  on  hesitating  feet, 

Young  Elthne  Inguba,   Cuchulaln's  mistress. 

She  stands  a  moment  In  the  open,  door, 

Beyond  the  open  door  the  bitter  sea. 

The  shining,  bitter  sea,  is  crying  out, 

{singing)   White  shell,  white  wing! 

I  will  not  choose  for  my  friend 

A  frail  unserviceable  thing 

That  drifts  and  dreams,  and  but  knows 

That  waters  are  without  end 

And  that  wind  blows. 

Emer  {speaking) 

Come  hither,  come  sit  down  beside  the  bed; 
You  need  not  be  afraid,  for  I  myself 
Sent  for  you,  Elthne  Inguba. 

Eithne  Inguba 

No,  Madam, 
I  have  too  deeply  wronged  you  to  sit  there. 


30  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Emer 

Of  all  the  people  in  the  world  we  two, 
And  we  alone,  may  watch  together  here, 
Because  we  have  loved  him  best. 

ElTHNE  InGUBA 

And  is  he  dead? 
Emer 

Although  they  have  dressed  him  out  in  his  grave-clothes 

And  stretched  his  limbs,  Cuchulain  is  not  dead; 

The  very  heavens  when  that  day's  at  hand, 

So  that  his  death  may  not  lack  ceremony, 

Will  throw  out  fires,  and  the  earth  grow  red  with  blood. 

There  shall  not  be  a  scullion  but  foreknows  it 

Like  the  world's  end. 

ElTHNE  InGUBA 

How  did  he  come  to  this? 

Emer 

Towards  noon  in  the  assembly  of  the  kings 
He  met  with  one  who  seemed  a  while  most  dear. 
The  kings  stood  round;  some  quarrel  was  blown  up; 
He  drove  him  out  and  killed  him  on  the  shore 
At  Baile's  tree,  and  he  who  was  so  killed 
Was  his  own  son  begot  on  some  wild  woman 
When  he  was  young,  or  so  I  have  heard  it  said; 
And  thereupon,  knowing  what  man  he  had  killed, 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER       31 

And  being  mad  with  sorrow,  he  ran  out; 

And  after,  to  his  middle  in  the  foam 

With  shield  before  him  and  with  sword  In  hand, 

He  fought  the  deathless  sea.     The  kings  looked  on 

And  not  a  king  dared  stretch  an  arm,  or  even 

Dared  call  his  name,  but  all  stood  wondering 

In  that  dumb  stupor  like  cattle  in  a  gale. 

Until  at  last,  as  though  he  had  fixed  his  eyes 

On  a  new  enemy,  he  waded  out 

Until  the  water  had  swept  over  him; 

But  the  waves  washed  his  senseless  image  up 

And  laid  it  at  this  door. 

ElTHNE  InGUBA 

How  pale  he  looks ! 


Emer 


He  is  not  dead. 


Eithne  Inguba 

You  have  not  kissed  his  lips 
Nor  laid  his  head  upon  your  breast. 

Emer 

It  may  be 
An  Image  has  been  put  into  his  place, 
A  sea-borne  log  bewitched  into  his  likeness, 
Or  some  stark  horseman  grown  too  old  to  ride 
Among  the  troops  of  Mananan,  Son  of  the  Sea, 
Now  that  his  joints  are  stiff. 


32  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

ElTHNE  InGUBA 

Cry  out  his  name. 
All  that  are  taken  from  our  sight,  they  say, 
Loiter  amid  the  scenery  of  their  lives 
For  certain  hours  or  days,  and  should  he  hear 
He  might,  being  angry,  drive  the  changeling  out. 

Emer 

It  Is  hard  to  make  them  hear  amid  their  darkness, 
And  it  is  long  since  I  could  call  him  home; 
I  am  but  his  wife,  but  if  you  cry  aloud 
With  that  sweet  voice  that  is  so  dear  to  him 
He  cannot  help  but  listen. 

EiTHNE  Inguba 

He  loves  me  best. 
Being  his  newest  love,  but  in  the  end 
Will  love  the  woman  best  who  loved  him  first 
And  loved  him  through  the  years  when  love  seemed 
lost. 

Emer 

I  have  that  hope,  the  hope  that  some  day  somewhere 
We'll  sit  together  at  the  hearth  again. 

EiTHNE  Inguba 

Women  like  me,  the  violent  hour  passed  over, 
Are  flung  into  some  corner  like  old  nut-shells. 
Cuchulain,  listen. 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER       33 

Emer 
No,  not  yet,  for  first 
I'll  cover  up  his  face  to  hide  the  sea ; 
And  throw  new  logs  upon  the  hearth  and  stir 
The  half-burnt  logs  until  they  break  in  flame. 
Old  Mananan's  unbridled  horses  come 
Out  of  the  sea,  and  on  their  backs  his  horsemen; 
But  all  the  enchantments  of  the  dreaming  foam 
Dread  the  hearth-fire. 

(She  pulls  the  curtains  of  the  bed  so  as  to  hide  the 
sick  man's  face,  that  the  actor  may  change  his  mask 
unseen.  She  goes  to  one  side  of  platform  and  moves 
her  hand  as  though  putting  logs  on  a  fire  and  stirring 
it  into  a  blaze.  While  she  makes  these  movements  the 
Musicians  play,  marking  the  movements  with  drum 
and  flute  perhaps. 

Having  finished  she  stands  beside  the  imaginary  fire 
at  a  distance  from  Cuchulain  and  Eithne  Inguha.) 

Call  on  Cuchulain  now. 

Eithne  Inguba 
Can  you  not  hear  my  voice? 

Emer 

Bend  over  him; 
Call  out  dear  secrets  till  you  have  touched  his  heart 
If  he  lies  there;  and  if  he  is  not  there 
Till  you  have  made  him  jealous. 

Eithne  Inguba 

Cuchulain,  listen. 

D 


34  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Emer 
Those  words  sound  timidly;  to  be  afraid 
Because  his  wife  is  but  three  paces  off, 
When  there  is  so  great  a  need,  were  but  to  prove 
The  man  that  chose  you  made  but  a  poor  choice: 
We're  but  two  women  struggling  with  the  sea. 

ElTHNE   InGUBA 

0  my  beloved,  pardon  me,  that  I 

Have  been  ashamed  and  you  in  so  great  need. 

1  have  never  sent  a  message  or  called  out, 
Scarce  had  a  longing  for  your  company 

But  you  have  known  and  come;  and  if  indeed 

You  are  lying  there,  stretch  out  your  arms  and  speak; 

Open  your  mouth  and  speak,  for  to  this  hour 

My  company  has  made  you  talkative. 

What  ails  your  tongue,  or  what  has  closed  your  ears? 

Our  passion  had  not  chilled  when  we  were  parted 

On  the  pale  shore  under  the  breaking  dawn. 

He  cannot  speak:  or  else  his  ears  are  closed 

And  no  sound  reaches  him, 

Emer 

Then  kiss  that  Image; 
The  pressure  of  your  mouth  upon  his  mouth 
May  reach  him  where  he  is. 

EiTHNE  Inguba  {starting  hack) 
It  is  no  man. 
I  felt  some  evil  thing  that  dried  my  heart 
When  my  lips  touched  it. 


THE   ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER      35 

EiMER 

No,  his  body  stirs; 
The  pressure  of  your  mouth  has  called  him  home; 
He  has  thrown  the  changeling  out. 

ElTHNE  Inguba  {going  further  off) 

Look  at  that  arm; 
That  arm  Is  withered  to  the  very  socket, 

Emer  {going  up  to  the  bed) 
What  do  you  come  for;  and  from  where? 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

I  have  come 
From  Mananan's  court  upon  a  bridleless  horse. 

Emer 

What  one  among  the  Sidhe  has  dared  to  lie 
Upon  Cuchulain's  bed  and  take  his  image? 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

I  am  named  Bricrlu — not  the  man — that  Bricrlu, 
Maker  of  discord  among  gods  and  men, 
Called  Bricriu  of  the  Sidhe. 

Emer 
Come  for  what  purpose? 


;36  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

{sitting  up  parting  curtain  and  showing  its  distorted 

face,  as  Eitline  Inguha  goes  out) 
I  show  my  face  and  everything  he  loves 
Must  fly  away. 

Emer 

You  people  of  the  wind 
Are  full  of  lying  speech  and  mockery: 
I  have  not  fled  your  face. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

You  are  not  loved. 

Emer 

And  therefore  have  no  dread  to  meet  your  eyes 
And  to  demand  him  of  you. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

For  that  I  have  come. 
You  have  but  to  pay  the  price  and  he  is  free. 

Emer 
Do  the  Sidhe  bargain? 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

When  they  would  free  a  captive 
They  take  in  ransom  a  less  valued  thing. 
The  fisher  when  some  knowledgeable  man 
Restores  to  him  his  wife,  or  son,  or  daughter, 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER        37 

Knows  he  must  lose  a  boat  or  net,  or  it  may  be 

The  cow  that  gives  his  children  milk;  and  some 

Have  offered  their  own  lives.     I  do  not  ask 

Your  life,  or  any  valuable  thing; 

You  spoke  but  now  of  the  mere  chance  that  some  day 

You'd  be  the  apple  of  his  eye  again 

When  old  and  ailing,  but  renounce  that  chance 

And  he  shall  live  again. 

Emer 

I  do  not  question 
But  you  have  brought  ill  luck  on  all  he  loves; 
And  now,  because  I  am  thrown  beyond  your  power 
Unless  your  words  are  lies,  you  come  to  bargain. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

You  loved  your  mastery,  when  but  newly  married, 
And  I  love  mine  for  all  my  withered  arm; 
You  have  but  to  put  yourself  into  that  power 
And  he  shall  live  again. 

Emer 

No,  never,  never. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 
You  dare  not  be  accursed,  yet  he  has  dared. 

Emer 

I  have  but  two  joyous  thoughts,  two  things  I  prize, 
A  hope,  a  memory,  and  now  you  claim  that  hope. 


38  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

He'll  never  sit  beside  you  at  the  hearth 
Or  make  old  bones,  but  die  of  wounds  and  toil 
On  some  far  shore  or  mountain,  a  strange  woman 
Beside  his  mattress. 

Emer 

You  ask  for  my  one  hope 
That  you  may  bring  your  curse  on  all  about  him. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

You've  watched  his  loves  and  you  have  not  been  jealous 
Knowing  that  he  would  tire,  but  do  those  tire 
That  love  the  Sidhe? 

Emer 

What  dancer  of  the  Sidhe, 
What  creature  of  the  reeling  moon  has  pursued  him? 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

I  have  but  to  touch  your  eyes  and  give  them  sight; 
But  stand  at  my  left  side. 

{He  touches  her  eyes  with  his  left  hand,  the  right 
being  withered.) 

Emer 

My  husband  there. 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER       39 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 
But  out  of  reach — I  have  dissolved  the  dark 
That  hid  him  from  your  eyes,  but  not  that  other 
That's  hidden  you  from  his. 

Emer 

Husband,  husband! 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 
Be  silent,  he  is  but  a  phantom  now 
And  he  can  neither  touch,  nor  hear,  nor  see; 
The  longing  and  the  cries  have  drawn  him  hither. 
He  heard  no  sound,  heard  no  articulate  sound; 
They  could  but  banish  rest,  and  make  him  dream, 
And  in  that  dream,  as  do  all  dreaming  shades 
Before  they  are  accustomed  to  their  freedom, 
He  has  taken  his  familar  form;  and  yet 
He  crouches  there  not  knowing  where  he  is 
Or  at  whose  side  he  is  crouched. 

{A  JFoman  of  the  Sidhe  has  entered  and  stands  a 
little  inside  the  door.) 

Emer 

Who  is  this  woman? 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 
She  has  hurried  from  the  Country-Under-Wave 
And  dreamed  herself  into  that  shape  that  he 
May  glitter  in  her  basket;  for  the  Sidhe 
Are  dextrous  fishers  and  they  fish  for  men 
With  dreams  upon  the  hook. 


40  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Emer 

And  so  that  woman 
Has  hid  herself  in  this  disguise  and  made 
Herself  into  a  lie. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

A  dream  is  body; 
The  dead  move  ever  towards  a  dreamless  youth 
And  when  they  dream  no  more  return  no  more; 
And  those  more  holy  shades  that  never  lived 
But  visit  you  in  dreams. 

Emer 

I  know  her  sort. 
They  find  our  men  asleep,  weary  with  war, 
Or  weary  with  the  chase,  and  kiss  their  lips 
And  drop  their  hair  upon  them;  from  that  hour 
Our  men,  who  yet  knew  nothing  of  it  all, 
Are  lonely,  and  when  at  fall  of  night  we  press 
Their  hearts  upon  our  hearts  their  hearts  are  cold. 

{She  drazis  a  knife  from  her  girdle.) 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

And  so  you  think  to  wound  her  with  a  knife. 

She  has  an  airy  body.     Look  and  listen; 

I  have  not  given  you  eyes  and  ears  for  nothing. 

{The  JVoman  of  the  Sidhe  moves  round  the  crouch- 
ing Ghost  of  Cuchulain  at  front  of  stage  in  a  dance 
that  grows  gradually  quicker,  as  he  slowly  awakes.  At 
moments  she  may  drop   her  hair  upon  his   head  hut 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER       41 

she  does  not  kiss  him.  She  is  accompanied  by  string 
and  flute  and  drum.  Her  mask  and  clothes  must  sug- 
gest gold  or  bronze  or  brass  or  silver,  so  that  she  seems 
more  an  idol  than  a  human  being.  This  suggestion 
may  be  repeated  in  her  movements.  Her  hair,  too, 
must  keep  the  metallic  suggestion.) 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

Who  is  it  stands  before  me  there 
Shedding  such  Hght  from  limb  and  hair 
As  when  the  moon,  complete  at  last 
With  every  labouring  crescent  past, 
And  lonely  with  extreme  delight. 
Flings  out  upon  the  fifteenth  night? 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Because  I  long  I  am  not  complete. 
What  pulled  your  hands  about  your  feet 
And  your  head  down  upon  your  knees, 
And  hid  your  face? 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

Old  memories: 
A  dying  boy,  with  handsome  face 
Upturned  upon  a  beaten  place; 
A  sacred  yew-tree  on  a  strand; 
A  woman  that  held  in  steady  hand, 
In  all  the  happiness  of  her  youth 
Before  her  man  had  broken  troth, 
A  burning  wisp  to  light  the  door; 
And  many  a  round  or  crescent  more; 


42  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Dead  men  and  women.     Memories 
Have  pulled  my  head  upon  my  knees. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Could  you  that  have  loved  many  a  woman 
That  did  not  reach  beyond  the  human, 
Lacking  a  day  to  be  complete, 
Love  one  that  though  her  heart  can  beat, 
Lacks  it  but  by  an  hour  or  so? 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

I  know  you  now,  for  long  ago 
I  met  you  on  the  mountain  side. 
Beside  a  well  that  seemed  long  dry. 
Beside  old  thorns  where  the  hawk  flew. 
I  held  out  arms  and  hands;  but  you, 
That  now  seem  friendly,  fled  away 
Half  woman  and  half  bird  of  prey. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Hold  out  your  arms  and  hands  again; 
You  were  not  so  dumbfounded  when 
I  was  that  bird  of  prey,  and  yet 
I  am  all  woman  now. 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

I  am  not 
The  young  and  passionate  man  I  was. 
And  though  that  brilliant  light  surpass 
All  crescent  forms,  my  memories 
Weigh  down  my  hands,  abash  my  eyes. 


THE   ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER      43 
Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Then  kiss  my  mouth.     Though  memory 
Be  beauty's  bitterest  enemy 
I  have  no  dread,  for  at  my  kiss 
Memory  on  the  moment  vanishes : 
Nothing  but  beauty  can  remain. 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

And  shall  I  never  know  again 
Intricacies  of  blind  remorse? 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Time  shall  seem  to  stay  his  course; 

When  your  mouth  and  my  mouth  meet 

All  my  round  shall  be  complete 

Imagining  all  Its  circles  run; 

And  there  shall  be  oblivion 

Even  to  quench  Cuchulain's  drouth, 

Even  to  still  that  heart. 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

Your  mouth. 

{They  are  about  to  kiss,  he  turns  away.) 
O  Emer,  Emer. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

So  then  it  is  she 
Made  you  impure  with  memory. 


if4  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

Still  in  that  dream  I  see  you  stand, 
A  burning  wisp  in  your  right  hand, 
To  wait  my  coming  to  the  house. 
As  when  our  parents  married  us. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Being  among  the  dead  you  love  her 
That  valued  every  slut  above  her 
While  you  still  lived. 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

O  my  lost  Emer. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

And  there  is  not  a  loose-tongued  schemer 
But  could  draw  you,  if  not  dead, 
From  her  table  and  her  bed. 
But  what  could  make  you  fit  to  wive 
With  flesh  and  blood,  being  born  to  live 
Where  no  one  speaks  of  broken  troth, 
For  all  have  washed  out  of  their  eyes 
Wind-blown  dirt  of  their  memories 
To  improve  their  sight? 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

Your  mouth,  your  mouth. 

( Their  lips  approach  but  Cuchulain  turns  away  as 
Emer  speaks.) 


THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER       45 

Emer 

If  but  the  dead  will  set  him  free 

That  I  may  speak  with  him  at  whiles 

By  the  hearth-stone,   I  am  content — • 

Content  that  he  shall  turn  on  me 

Eyes  that  the  cold  moon,  or  the  vague  sea, 

Or  what  I  know  not's  made  indifferent. 

Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

What  a  wise  silence  has  fallen  in  this  dark  I 

I  know  you  now  in  all  your  ignorance 

Of  all  whereby  a  lover's  quiet  is  rent. 

What  dread  so  great  as  that  he  should  forget 

The  least  chance  sight  or  sound,  or  scratch  or  mark 

On  an  old  door,  or  frail  bird  heard  and  seen 

In  the  incredible  clear  light  love  cast 

All  round  about  her  some  forlorn  lost  day? 

That  face,  though  fine  enough,  is  a  fool's  face 

And  there's  a  folly  in  the  deathless  Sidhe 

Beyond  man's  reach. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

I  told  you  to  forget 
After  my  fashion;  you  would  have  none  of  it; 
So  now  you  may  forget  in  a  man's  fashion. 
There's  an  unbridled  horse  at  the  sea's  edge; 
Mount;  it  will  carry  you  in  an  eye's  wink 
To  where  the  King  of  Country-Under-Wave, 
Old  Mananan,  nods  above  the  board  and  moves 


46  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

His  chessmen  in  a  dream.     Demand  your  life 
And  come  again  on  the  unbridled  horse. 


Ghost  of  Cuchulain 

Forgive  me  those  rough  words.    How  could  you  knovv 
That  man  is  held  to  those  whom  he  has  loved 
By  pain  they  gave,  or  pain  that  he  has  given, 
Intricacies  of  pain. 


Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

I  am  ashamed 
That  being  of  the  deathless  shades  I  chose 
A  man  so  knotted  to  impurity. 

{The  Ghost  of  Cuchulain  goes  out.) 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

{to  Figure  of  Cuchulain) 

To  you  that  have  no  living  light,  but  dropped 
From  a  last  leprous  crescent  of  the  moon, 
I  owe  it  all. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

Because  you  have  failed 
I  must  forego  your  thanks,  I  that  took  pity 
Upon  your  love  and  carried  out  your  plan 
To  tangle  all  his  life  and  make  it  nothing 
That  he  might  turn  to  you. 


TPiE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER       47 
Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Was  it  from  pity 
You  taught  the  woman  to  prevail  against  me? 

Figure  of  Cuciulain 
You  know  my  nature — ^by  what  name  I  am  called. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

Was  it  from  pity  that  you  hid  the  truth 

That  men  are  bound  to  women  by  the  wrongs 

They  do  or  suffer? 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

You  know  what  being  I  am. 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

I  have  been  mocked  and  disobeyed — your  power 
Was  more  to  you  than  my  good-will,  and  now 
I'll  have  you  learn  what  my  ill-will  can  do; 
I  lay  you  under  bonds  upon  the  Instant 
To  stand  before  your  King  and  face  the  charge 
And  take  the  punishment. 

Figure  of  Cuchulain 

I'll  stand  there  first, 
And  tell  my  story  first,  and  Mananan 
Knows  that  his  own  harsh  sea  made  my  heart  cold. 


48  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Woman  of  the  Sidhe 

My  horse  is  there  and  shall  outrun  your  horse. 

{The  Figure  of  Cuchulain  falls  back,  the  Woman  of 
the  Sidhe  goes  out.  Drum  taps,  music  resembling  horse 
hoofs.) 

EiTHNE  Inguba  {entering  quickly) 

I  heard  the  beat  of  hoofs,  but  saw  no  horse, 
And  then  came  other  hoofs,  and  after  that 
I  heard  low  angry  cries  and  thereupon 
I  ceased  to  be  afraid. 

Emer 

Cuchulain  wakes. 

( The  figure  turns  round.  It  once  more  wears  the 
heroic  mask.) 

Cuchulain 

Your  arms,  your  arms.     O  Eithne  Inguba, 

I  have  been  in  some  strange  place  and  am  afraid. 

( The  First  Musician  comes  to  the  front  of  stage,  the 
others  from  each  side  and  unfold  the  cloth  singing.) 
{Song  for  the  unfolding  and  folding  of  the  cloth.) 

The  Musicians 

Why  does  your  heart  beat  thus? 
Plain  to  be  understood 
I  have  met  in  a  man's  house 
A  statue  of  solitude. 
Moving  there  and  walking; 
Its  strange  heart  beating  fast 


THE   ONLY  JEALOUSY   OF  EMER      49 

For  all  our  talking. 

O  still  that  heart  at  last. 

O  bitter  reward 

Of  many  a  tragic  tomb ! 

And  we  though  astonished  are  dumb 

And  give  but  a  sigh  and  a  word, 

A  passing  word. 

Although  the  door  be  shut 
And  all  seem  well  enough, 
Although  wide  world  hold  not 
A  man  but  will  give  you  his  love 
The  moment  he  has  looked  at  you, 
He  that  has  loved  the  best 
May  turn  from  a  statue 
His  too  human  breast. 

O  bitter  reward 

Of  many  a  tragic  tomb! 

And  we  though  astonished  are  dumb 

Or  give  but  a  sigh  and  a  word, 

A  passing  word. 

What  makes  your  heart  so  beat? 
Is  there  no  man  at  your  side? 
When  beauty  Is  complete 
Your  own  thought  will  have  died 
And  danger  not  be  diminished; 
Dimmed  at  three-quarter  light 
When  moon's  round  is  finished 
The  stars  are  out  of  sight. 


r50  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

O  bitter  reward 

Of  many  a  tragic  tomb ! 

And  we  though  astonished  are  dumb 

Or  give  but  a  sigh  and  a  word, 

A  passing  word. 

{When  the  cloth  is  folded  again  the  stage  is  hare.) 


THE  DJREAMING  OF  THE  BONES 


51 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

Three  Musicians  {their  faces  made  up  to  resemble 

masks) . 
A  Young  Man. 
A  Stranger  {zvearing  a  mask). 
A  Young  Girl    {wearing  a  mask). 

Time — 191 6. 

The  stage  is  any  bare  place  in  a  room  close  to  the 
wall.  A  screen,  with  a  pattern  of  mountain  and  sky, 
can  stand  against  the  wall,  or  a  curtain  with  a  like 
pattern  hang  upon  it,  but  the  pattern  must  only 
symbolize  or  suggest.  One  musician  enters  and  then 
two  others;  the  first  stands  singing,  as  in  preceding 
plays,  while  the  others  take  their  places.  Then  all 
three  sit  down  against  the  wall  by  their  instruments, 
which  are  already  there — a  drum,  a  zither,  and  a 
flute.  Or  they  unfold  a  cloth  as  in  ''At  the  Hawk's 
JVell,"  while  the  instruments  are  carried  in. 

{Song  for  the  folding  and  uiif aiding  of  the  cloth.) 

First  Musician   {or  all  three  musicians,  singing) 

Why  does  my  heart  beat  so? 
Did  not  a  shadow  pass? 
It  passed  but  a  moment  ago. 
Who  can  have  trod  in  the  grass? 
What  rogue  is  night-wandering? 

53 


54  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Have  not  old  writers  said 
That  dizzy  dreams  can  spring 
From  the  dry  bones  of  the  dead? 
And  many  a  night  it  seems 
That  all  the  valley  fills 
With  those  fantastic  dreams. 
They  overflow  the  hills, 
So  passionate  is  a  shade, 
Like  wine  that  fills  to  the  top 
A  grey-green  cup  of  jade, 
Or  maybe  an  agate  cup. 

{The  three  Musicians  are  now  seated  by  the  drum, 
flute,  and  zither  at  the  back  of  the  stage.  The  First 
Musician  speaks.) 

The  hour  before  dawn  and  the  moon  covered  up; 

The  little  village  of  Abbey  is  covered  up; 

The  little  narrow  trodden  way  that  runs 

From  the  white  road  to  the  Abbey  of  Corcomroe 

Is  covered  up;  and  all  about  the  hills 

Are  like  a  circle  of  Agate  or  of  Jade. 

Somewhere  among  great  rocks  on  the  scarce  grass 

Birds  cry,  they  cry  their  loneliness. 

Even  the  sunlight  can  be  lonely  here. 

Even  hot  noon  is  lonely.     I  hear  a  footfall — 

A  young  man  with  a  lantern  comes  this  way. 

He  seems  an  Aran  fisher,  for  he  wears 

The  flannel  bawneen  and  the  cow-hide  shoe. 

He  stumbles  wearily,  and  stumbling  prays. 

{A  young  man  enters,  praying  in  Irish.) 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES      55 

Once  more  the  birds  cry  in  their  loneliness, 

But  now  they  wheel  about  our  heads;  and  now 

They  have  dropped  on  the  grey  stone  to  the  north-east. 

(A  man  and  a  girl,  in  the  costume  of  a  past  time, 
come  in.     They  wear  heroic  masks.) 

Young  Man    {raising  his  lantern) 

Who  is  there?     I  cannot  see  what  you  are  like, 
Come  to  the  light. 

Stranger 

But  what  have  you  to  fear? 

Young  Man 
And  why  have  you  come  creeping  through  the  dark. 

{The  Girl  blows  out  lantern.) 
The  wind  has  blown  my  lantern  out.    Where  are  you? 
I  saw  a  pair  of  heads  against  the  sky 
And  lost  them  after;  but  you  are  in  the  right, 
I  should  not  be  afraid  in  County  Clare; 
And  should  be,  or  should  not  be  have  no  choice, 
I  have  to  put  myself  into  your  hands, 
Now  that  my  candle's  out. 

Stranger 

You  have  fought  in  Dublin? 

Young  Man 

I  was  in  the  Post  Office,  and  if  taken 
I  shall  be  put  against  a  wall  and  shot. 


S6  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Stranger 

You  know  some  place  of  refuge,  have  some  plan 
Or  friend  who  will  come  to  meet  you? 

Young  Man 

I  am  to  lie 
At  daybreak  on  the  mountain  and  keep  watch 
Until  an  Aran  coracle  puts  in 
At  Muckanish  or  at  the  rocky  shore 
Under  Finvarra,  but  would  break  my  neck 
If  I  went  stumbling  there  alone  in  the  dark. 

Stranger 

We  know  the  pathways  that  the  sheep  tread  out, 

And  all  the  hiding-places  of  the  hills, 

And  that  they  had  better  hiding-places  once. 

Young  Man 

You'd  say  they  had  better  before  English  robbers 
Cut  down  the  trees  or  set  them  upon  fire 
For  fear  their  owners  might  find  shelter  there. 
What  is  that  sound? 

Stranger 

An  old  horse  gone  astray. 
He  has  been  wandering  on  the  road  all  night. 

Young  Man 

I  took  him  for  a  man  and  horse.     Police 
Are  out  upon  the  roads.     In  the  late  Rising 
I  think  there  was  no  man  of  us  but  hated 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES       57 

To  fire  at  soldiers  who  but  did  their  duty 
And  were  not  of  our  race,  but  when  a  man 
Is  born  in  Ireland  and  of  Irish  stock, 
When  he  takes  part  against  us — 

Stranger 

I  will  put  you  safe, 
No  living  man  shall  set  his  eyes  upon  you; 
I  will  not  answer  for  the  dead. 

Young  Man 

The  dead? 

Stranger 

For  certain  days  the  stones  where  you  must  lie 
Have  in  the  hour  before  the  break  of  day 
Been  haunted. 

Young  Man 

But  I  was  not  born  at  midnight. 

Stranger 

(Many  a  man  that  was  born  in  the  full  daylight 
Can  see  them  plain,  will  pass  them  on  the  high-road 
Or  in  the  crowded  market-place  of  the  town, 
And  never  know  that  they  have  passed. 

Young  Man 

My  Grandam 
Would  have  it  they  did  penance  everywhere; 
Some  lived  through  their  old  lives  again. 


58  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Stranger  t       j 

In  a  dream; 

And  some  for  an  old  scruple  must  hang  spitted 

Upon  the  swaying  tops  of  lofty  trees; 

Some  are  consumed  in  fire,  some  withered  up 

By  hail  and  sleet  out  of  the  wintry  North, 

And  some  but  live  through  their  old  lives  again. 

Young  Man 
Well,  let  them  dream  into  what  shape  they  please 
And  fill  waste  mountains  with  the  invisible  tumult 
Of  the  fantastic  conscience.     I  have  no  dread; 
They  cannot  put  me  into  jail  or  shoot  me. 
And  seeing  that  their  blood  has  returned  to  fields 
That  have  grown  red  from  drinking  blood  like  mine, 
They  would  not  if  they  could  betray. 

Stranger  rr., .        . 

Ihis  pathway 

Runs  to  the  ruined  Abbey  of  Corcomroe; 

The  Abbey  passed,  we  are  soon  among  the  stone 

And  shall  be  at  the  ridge  before  the  cocks 

Of  Aughanish  or  Bailevelehan 

Or  grey  Aughtmana  shake  their  wings  and  cry. 

(They  go  round  the  stage  once.) 

First  Musician  {speaking) 
They've  passed  the  shallow  well  and  the  flat  stone 
Fouled  by  the  drinking  cattle,  the  narrow  lane 
Where  mourners  for  five  centuries  have  carried 
Noble  or  peasant  to  his  burial; 
An  owl  is  crying  out  above  their  heads. 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES       59 

(singing) 
Why  should  the  heart  take  fright? 
What  sets  it  beating  so  ? 
The  bitter  sweetness  of  the  night 
Has  made  it  but  a  lonely  thing. 
Red  bird  of  March,  begin  to  crow, 
Up  with  the  neck  and  clap  the  wing. 
Red  cock,  and  crow. 

( They  go  round  the  stage  once.     The  First  Musician 
speaks.) 

And  now  they  have  climbed  through  the  long  grassy 

field 
And  passed  the  ragged  thorn  trees  and  the  gap 
In  the  ancient  hedge;  and  the  tomb-nested  owl 
At  the  foot's  level  beats  with  a  vague  wing. 

{singing) 
My  head  is  in  a  cloud; 
I'd  let  the  whole  world  go; 
My  rascal  heart  is  proud 
Remembering  and  remembering. 
Red  bird  of  March,  begin  to  crow, 
Up  with  the  neck  and  clap  the  wing. 
Red  cock,  and  crow. 

( They  go  round  the  stage  once.     The  First  Musician 
speaks.) 

They  are  among  the  stones  above  the  ash 
Above  the  briar  and  thorn  and  the  scarce  grass; 
Hidden  amid  the  shadow  far  below  them 
The  cat-headed  bird  Is  crying  out. 


6o  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

(singing) 
The  dreaming  bones  cry  out 
Because  the  night  winds  blow 
And  heaven's  a  cloudy  blot; 
Calamity  can  have  its  fling. 
Red  bird  of  March  begin  to  crow, 
Up  with  the  neck  and  clap  the  wing, 
Red  cock,  and  crow. 

Stranger 

We're  almost  at  the  summit  and  can  rest. 
The  road  is  a  faint  shadow  there;  and  there 
The  Abbey  lies  amid  its  broken  tombs. 
In  the  old  days  we  should  have  heard  a  bell 
Calling  the  monks  before  day  broke  to  pray; 
And  when  the  day  has  broken  on  the  ridge, 
The  crowing  of  its  cocks. 

Young  Man 

Is  there,  no  house 
Famous  for  sanctity  or  architectural  beauty 
In  Clare  or  Kerry,  or  In  all  wide  Connacht 
The  enemy  has  not  unroofed? 

Stranger 

Close  to  the  altar 
Broken  by  wind  and  frost  and  worn  by  time 
Donogh  O'Brien  has  a  tomb,  a  name  in  Latin. 
He  wore  fine  clothes  and  knew  the  secrets  of  women, 
But  he  rebelled  against  the  King  of  Thomond 
And  died  in  his  youth. 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES       6i 

Young  Man 

And  why  should  he  rebel? 
The  King  of  Thomond  was  his  rightful  master. 
It  was  men  like  Donogh  who  made  Ireland  weak — 
My  curse  on  all  that  troop,  and  when  I  die 
I'll  leave  my  body,  if  I  have  any  choice 
Far  from  his  ivy  tod  and  his  owl;  have  those 
Who,  if  your  tale  is  true,  work  out  a  penance 
Upon  the  mountain-top  where  I  am  to  hide, 
Come  from  the  Abbey  graveyard? 

Young  Girl 

They  have  not  that  luck, 
But  are  more  lonely;  those  that  are  buried  there. 
Warred  in  the  heat  of  the  blood;  if  they  were  rebels 
Some  momentary  impulse  made  them  rebels 
Or  the  commandment  of  some  petty  king 
Who  hated  Thomond.     Being  but  common  sinners, 
No  callers  in  of  the  alien  from  oversea. 
They  and  their  enemies  of  Thomond's  party 
Mix  in  a  brief  dream  battle  above  their  bones; 
Or  make  one  drove;  or  drift  in  amity; 
Or  in  the  hurry  of  the  heavenly  round 
Forget  their  earthly  names.     These  are  alone 
Being  accursed. 

Young  Man 

But  If  what  seems  Is  true 
And  there  are  more  upon  the  other  side 
Than  on  this  side  of  death,  many  a  ghost 
Must  meet  them  face  to  face  and  pass  the  word 
Even  upon  this  grey  and  desolate  hill. 


62  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Young  Girl 

Until  this  hour  no  ghost  or  living  man 
Has  spoken  though  seven  centuries  have  run 
Since  they,  weary  of  life  and  of  men's  eyes, 
Flung  down  their  bones  in  some  forgotten  place 
Being  accursed. 

Young  Man 

I  have  heard  that  there  are  souls 
Who,  having  sinned  after  a  monstrous   fashion, 
Take  on  them,  being  dead,  a  monstrous  image 
To  drive  the  living,  should  they  meet  its  face, 
Crazy,  and  be  a  terror  to  the  dead. 

Young  Girl 

But  these 
Were  comely  even  in  their  middle  life 
And  carry,  now  that  they  are  dead,  the  image 
Of  their  first  youth,  for  it  was  in  that  youth 
Their  sin  began. 

Young  Man 

I  have  heard  of  angry  ghosts 
Who  wander  in  a  wilful  solitude. 

Young  Girl 

These  have  no  thought  but  love;  nor  joy 
But  that  upon  the  instant  when  their  penance 
Draws  to  its  height  and  when  two  hearts  are  wrung 
Nearest  to  breaking,  if  hearts  of  shadows  break, 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES       63 

His  eyes  can  mix  with  hers;  nor  any  pang 
That  is  so  bitter  as  that  double  glance, 
Being  accursed. 

Young  Man 

But  what  is  this  strange  penance — 
That  when  their  eyes  have  met  can  wring  them  most? 

Young  Girl 
Though  eyes  can  meet,  their  lips  can  never  meet. 

Young  Man 

And  yet  it  seems  they  wander  side  by  side. 

But  doubtless  you  would  say  that  when  lips  meet 

And  have  not  living  nerves,  it  is  no  meeting. 

Young  Girl 

Although  they  have  no  blood,  or  living  nerves, 

Who  once  lay  warm  and  live  the  live-long  night 

In  one  another's  arms,  and  know  their  part 

In  life,  being  now  but  of  the  people  of  dreams, 

Is  a  dream's  part;  although  they  are  but  shadows, 

Hovering  between  a  thorn  tree  and  a  stone. 

Who  have  heaped  up  night  on  winged  night;  although 

No  shade  however  harried  and  consumed 

Would  change  his  own  calamity  for  theirs. 

Their  manner  of  life  were  blessed  could  their  lips 

A  moment  meet;  but  when  he  has  bent  his  head 

Close  to  her  head,  or  hand  would  slip  in  hand, 

The  memory  of  their  crime  flows  up  between 

And  drives  them  apart, 


64  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Young  Man 

The  memory  of  a  crime — 
He  took  her  from  a  husband's  house  it  may  be, 
But  does  the  penance  for  a  passionate  sin 
Last  for  so  many  centuries? 

Young  Girl 

No,  no; 
The  man  she  chose,  the  man  she  was  chosen  by 
Cared  httle  and  cares  Httle  from  whose  house 
They  fled  towards  dawn  amid  the  flights  of  arrows, 
Or  that  it  was  a  husband's  and  a  king's; 
And  how,  if  that  were  all,  could  she  lack  friends. 
On  crowded  roads  or  on  the  unpeopled  hill? 
Helen  herself  had  opened  wide  the  door 
Where  night  by  night  she  dreams  herself  awake 
And  gathers  to  her  breast  a  dreaming  man. 

Young  Man 

What  crime  can  stay  so  in  the  memory? 
What  crime  can  keep  apart  the  lips  of  lovers 
Wandering  and  alone? 

Young  Girl 

Her  king  and  lover 
Was  overthrown  in  battle  by  her  husband 
And  for  her  sake  and  for  his  own,  being  blind 
And  bitter  and  bitterly  in  love,  he  brought 
A  foreign  army  from  across  the  sea. 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES       65 

Young  Man 

You  speak  of  Dermot  and  of  Dervorgllla 
Who  brought  the  Norman  in? 

Young  Girl 

Yes,  yes,  I  spoke 
Of  that  most  miserable,  most  accursed  pair 
Who  sold  their  country  into  slavery,  and  yet 
They  were  not  wholly  miserable  and  accursed 
If  somebody  of  their  race  at  last  would  say: 
"I  have  forgiven  them." 

Young  Man 

Oh,  never,  never 
Shall  Dermot  and  Dervorgilla  be  forgiven. 

Young  Girl 

If  some  one  of  their  race  forgave  at  last 
Lip  would  be  pressed  on  lip. 

Young  Man 

Oh,  never,  never 
Shall  Dermot  and  Dervorgilla  be  forgiven. 
You  have  told  your  story  well,  so  well  indeed 
I  could  not  help  but  fall  into  the  mood 
And  for  a  while  believe  that  it  was  true 
Or  half  believe;  but  better  push  on  now. 
The  horizon  to  the  East  is  growing  bright. 
{They  go  round  stage  once.     The  musicians  play.) 
So  here  we're  on  the  summit.     I  can  see 
The  Aran  Islands,  Connemara  Hills, 


66  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

And  Galway  in  the  breaking  light;  there  too 

The  enemy  has  toppled  roof  and  gable; 

And  torn  the  panelling  from  ancient  rooms; 

What  generations  of  old  men  had  known 

Like  their  own  hands,  and  children  wondered  at, 

Has  boiled  a  trooper's  porridge.    That  town  had  lain, 

But  for  the  pair  that  you  would  have  me  pardon, 

Amid  its  gables  and  its  battlements 

Like  any  old  admired  Italian  town; 

For  though  we  have  neither  coal,  nor  iron  ore, 

To  make  us  wealthy  and  corrupt  the  air. 

Our  country,  if  that  crime  were  uncommitted. 

Had  been  most  beautiful.     Why  do  you  dance? 

Why  do  you  gaze,  and  with  so  passionate  eyes, 

One  on  the  other;  and  then  turn  away, 

Covering  your  eyes,  and  weave  it  in  a  dance? 

Who  are  you?  what  are  you?  you  are  not  natural. 

Young  Girl 
Seven  hundred  years  our  lips  have  never  met. 

Young  Man 

Why  do  you  look  so  strangely  at  one  another. 
So  strangely  and  so  sweetly? 

iYouNG  Girl 

Seven  hundred  years. 

Young  Man 
So  strangely  and  so  sweetly.     All  the  ruin, 
All,  all  their  handiwork  is  blown  away 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES       67 

As  though  the  mountain  air  had  blown  it  away 
Because  their  eyes  have  met.     They  cannot  hear, 
Being  folded  up  and  hidden  in  their  dance. 
The  dance  is  changing  now.    They  have  dropped  their 

eyes, 
They  have  covered  up  their  eyes  as  though  their  hearts 
Had  suddenly  been  broken — never,  never 
Shall  Dermot  and  Dervorgilla  be   forgiven. 
They  have  drifted  in  the  dance  from  rock,  to  rock. 
They  have  raised  their  hands  as  though  to  snatch  the 

sleep 
That  lingers  always  in  the  abyss  of  the  sky 
Though  they  can  never  reach  it.     A  cloud  floats  up 
And  covers  all  the  mountain  head  in  a  moment; 
And  now  it  lifts  and  they  are  swept  away. 
{The  stranger  and  the  young  girl  go  out.) 
I  had  almost  yielded  and  forgiven  it  all — 
This  is  indeed  a  place  of  terrible  temptation. 

(  The  Musicians  begin  unfolding  and  folding  a  black 
cloth.  The  First  Musician  comes  forward  to  the  front 
of  the  stage,  at  the  centre.  He  holds  the  cloth  before 
him.  The  other  two  come  one  on  either  side  and  unfold 
it.  They  afterwards  fold  it  up  in  the  same  way.  JVhile 
it  is  unfolded,  the  Young  Man  leaves  the  stage.) 

(Songs  for  the  unfolding  and  folding  of  the  cloth.) 

The  Musicians  {singing) 
I 
At  the  grey  round  of  the  hill 
Music  of  a  lost  kingdom 


68  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Runs,  runs  and  Is  suddenly  still. 
The  winds  out  of  Clare-Galway 
Carry  it:  suddenly  It  Is  still. 

I  have  heard  In  the  night  air 
A  wandering  airy  music; 
And  moldered  In  that  snare 
A  man  Is  lost  of  a  sudden, 
In  that  sweet  wandering  snare. 

What  finger  first  began 
Music  of  a  lost  kingdom? 
They  dream  that  laughed  in  the  sun. 
Dry  bones  that  dream  are  bitter, 
They  dream  and  darken  our  sun. 

Those  crazy  fingers  play 

A  wandering  airy  music; 

Our  luck  is  withered  away. 

And  wheat  in  the  wheat-ear  withered, 

And  the  wind  blows  it  away. 

II 

My  heart  ran  wild  when  it  heard 
The  curlew  cry  before  dawn 
And  the  eddying  cat-headed  bird; 
But  now  the  night  is  gone, 
I  have  heard  from  far  below 
The  strong  March  birds  a-crow, 
Stretch  neck  and  clap  the  wing. 
Red  cocks,  and  crow. 


CALVARY 


69 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

Three  Musicians  {their  faces  made  up  to  resemble 

masks) . 
Christ  {wearing  a  mask). 
Lazarus  {wearing  a  mask) 
Judas   {wearing  a  mask). 
Three  Roman  Soldiers  {their  faces  masked  or  made 

up  to  resemble  masks) 

At  the  beginning  of  the  play  the  First  Musician 
comes  to  the  front  of  the  bare  place,  round  three  sides 
of  which  the  audience  are  seated,  with  a  folded  cloth 
hanging  from  his  joined  hands.  Two  other  musicians 
come,  as  in  the  preceding  plays,  one  from  either  side, 
and  unfold  the  cloth  so  that  it  shuts  out  the  stage,  and 
then  fold  it  again,  singing  and  moving  rhythmically. 
They  do  the  same  at  the  end  of  the  play,  which  enables 
the  players  to  leave  the  stage  unseen. 

{Song  for  the  folding  and  the  unfolding  of  the  cloth.) 

First  Musician 

Motionless  under  the  moon-beam, 
Up  to  his  feathers  in  the  stream, 
Although  fish  leap,  the  white  heron 
Shivers  in  a  dumbfounded  dream. 

71 


72  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Second  Musician 
God  has  not  died  for  the  white  heron. 

Third  Musician 

Although  half  famished  he'll  not  dare 
Dip  or  do  anything  but  stare 
Upon  the  glittering  image  of  a  heron, 
That  now  is  lost  and  now  is  there. 

Second  Musician 
God  has  not  died  for  the  white  heron. 

First  Musician 

But  that  the  full  is  shortly  gone 
And  after  that  is  crescent  moon, 
It's  certain  that  the  moon-crazed  heron 
Would  be  but  fishes'  diet  soon. 

Second  Musician 
God  has  not  died  for  the  white  heron. 

( The  three  musicians  are  now  seated  by  the  drum, 
flute,  and  zither  at  the  hack  of  stage.) 

First  Musician 

The  road  to  Calvary,  and  I  beside  it 

Upon  an  ancient  stone.     Good  Friday's  come, 

The  day  whereon  Christ  dreams  His  passion  through. 

He  climbs  up  hither  but  as  a  dreamer  climbs. 


CALVARY  73 

The  cross  that  but  exists  because  He  dreams  it 
Shortens  His  breath  and  wears  away  His  strength. 
And  now  He  stands  amid  a  mocking  crowd, 
Heavily  breathing. 

[A  player  ivitJi  the  mask  of  Christ  and  carrying  a 
cross  has  entered  and  now  stands  leaning  upon  the 
cross.) 

Those  that  are  behind 
Climb  on  the  shoulders  of  the  men  in  front 
To  shout  their  mockery:     "Work  a  miracle," 
Cries  one,  and  "Save  yourself" ;  another  cries, 
"Call  on  your  father  now  before  your  bones 
Have  been  picked  bare  by  the  great  desert  birds"; 
Another  cries:     "Call  out  with  a  loud  voice 
And  tell  him  that  his  son  is  cast  away 
Amid  the  mockery  of  his  enemies." 

{Singing) 
Oh,  but  the  mockers'  cry 
Makes  my  heart  afraid, 
As  though  a  flute  of  bone 
Taken  from  a  heron's  thigh, 
A  heron  crazed  by  the  moon, 
Were  cleverly,  softly  played, 

{Speaking) 
Who  is  this  from  whom  the  crowd  has  shrunk, 
As  though  he  had  some  look  that  terrified? 
He  has  a  deathly  face,  and  yet  he  moves 
Like  a  young  foal  that  sees  the  hunt  go  by 
And  races  in  the  field. 


74  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

{A  player  with  the  mask  of  Lazarus  has  entered.) 

Lazarus 

He  raised  me  up. 
I  am  the  man  that  died  and  was  raised  up; 
I  am  called  Lazarus. 

Christ 

Seeing  that  you  died, 
Lay  in  the  tomb  four  days  and  were  raised  up, 
You  will  not  mock  at  me. 

Lazarus 

For  four  whole  days 
I  had  been  dead  and  I  was  lying  still 
In  an  old  comfortable  mountain  cavern 
When  you  came  climbing  there  with  a  great  crowd 
And  dragged  me  to  the  light. 

Christ 

I  called  your  name, 
"Lazarus,  come  out,"  I  said,  and  you  came  out 
Bound  up  in  cloths,  your  face  bound  in  a  cloth. 

Lazarus 

You  took  my  death,  give  me  your  death  instead. 

Christ 
I  gave  you  life. 


CALVARY  75 

Lazarus 

But  death  Is  what  I  ask. 
Alive  I  never  could  escape  your  love, 
And  when  I  sickened  towards  my  death  I  thought 
I'll  to  the- desert,  or  chuckle  in  a  corner 
Mere  ghost,  a  solitary  thing.     I  died 
And  saw  no  more  until  I  saw  you  stand 
In  the  opening  of  the  tomb;  "Come  out!"  you  called; 
You  dragg;ed  me  to  the  light  as  boys  drag  out 
A  rabbit  when  they  have  dug  its  hole  away; 
And  now  with  all  the  shouting  at  your  heels 
You  travel  towards  the  death  I  am  denied. 
And  that  is  why  I  have  hurried  to  this  road; 
And  that  is  why  I  claim  your  death. 

Christ 

I  have  conquered  death 
And  all  the  dead  shall  be  raised  up  again. 

Lazarus 

Then  what  I  heard  is  true.     I  thought  to  die 

When  my  allotted  years  ran  out  again;  ' 

And  that,  being  gone,  you  could  not  hinder  it; 

But  now  you  will  blind  with  light  the  solitude 

That  death  has  made;  you  will  disturb  that  corner 

Where  I  had  thought  I  might  lie  safe  for  ever. 

Christ 
I  do  my  Father's  will. 


76  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Lazarus 

And  not  your  own; 
And  I  was  free  four  days,  four  days  being  dead. 
Climb  up  to  Calvary  but  turn  your  eyes 
From  Lazarus  that  cannot  find-  a  tomb 
Although  he  search  all  height  and  depth :  make  way, 
Make  way  for  Lazarus  that  must  go  search 
Among  the  desert  places  where  there  is  nothing 
But  howling  wind  and  solitary  birds. 

{He  goes  out.) 

First  Musician 

The  crowd  shrinks  backward  from  the  face  that  seems 
Death  stricken  and  death  hungry  still;  and  now 
Martha,  and  those  three  Marys,  and  the  rest 
That  live  but  In  His  love  are  gathered  round  Him. 
He  holds  His  right  arm  out,  and'  on  His  arm 
Their  lips  are  pressed  and  their  tears  fall;  and  now 
They  cast  them  on  the  ground  before  His  dirty 
Blood-dabbled  feet  and  clean  them*  with  their  hair. 

{Sings) 

Take  but  His  love  away 
Their  love  becomes  a"  feather 
Of  eagle,  swan  or  gidl. 
Or  a  drowned  heron's  feather 
Tossed  hither  and  thither 
Upon  the  bitter  spray 
And  the  moon  at  the  full. 


CALVARY  77 

Christ 

I  felt  their  hair  upon  my  feet  a  moment 
And  then  they  fled  away — why  have  they  fled? 
Why  has  the  street  grown  empty  of  a  sudden 
As  though  all  fled  from  it  in  terror? 

Judas   {who  has  just  entered) 

I  am  Judas 
That  sold  you  ror  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver. 

Christ 

You  were  beside  me  every  day,  and  saw 
The  dead  raised  up  and  blind  men  given  their  sight, 
And  all  that  I  have  said  and  taught  you  have  known, 
Yet  doubt  that  I  am  God. 

Judas 

I  have  not  doubted; 
I  knew  it  from  the  first  moment  that  I  saw  you; 
I  had  no  need  of  miracles  to  prove  it. 

Christ 
And  yet  you  have  betrayed  me. 

Judas 

I  have  betrayed  you 
Because  you  seemed  all-powerful. 

Christ 

My  Father 
Even  now,  if  I  were  but  to  whisper  it. 


78  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Would  break  the  world  In  His  miraculous  fury 
To  set  me  free. 

Judas 

And  is  there  not  one  man 
In  the  wide  world  that  is  not  in  your  power? 

Christ 
My  Father  put  all  men  into  my  hands. 

Judas 

That  was  the  very  thought  that  drove  me  wild, 
I  could  not  bear  to  think  you  had  but  to  whistle 
And  I  must  do;  but  after  that  I  thought 
Whatever  man  betrays  Him  will  be  free; 
And  life  grew  bearable  again.     And  now 
Is  there  a  secret  left  I  do  not  know, 
Knowing  that  if  a  man  betrays  a  God 
He  is  the  stronger  of  the  two, 

Christ 

But  if 
'Twere  the  commandment  of  that  God  Himself 
That  God  were  still  the  stronger? 

Judas 

When  I  planned  it 
There  was  no  live  thing  near  me  but  a  heron 
So  full  of  Itself  that  it  seemed  terrified. 


CALVARY  79 

Christ 

But  my  betrayal  was  decreed  that  hour 
When  the  foundations  of  the  world  were  laid. 

Judas 

It  was  decreed  that  somebody  betray  you — 

I'd  thought  of  that — but  not  that  I  should  do  it, 

I  the  man  Judas,  born  on  such  a  day, 

In  such  a  village,  such  and  such  his  parents; 

Nor  that  I'd  go  with  my  old  coat  upon  me 

To  the  High  Priest,  and  chuckle  to  myself 

As  people  chuckle  when  alone,  and  that  I'd  do  it 

For  thirty  pieces  and  no  more,  no  less. 

And  neither  with- a  nod,  a  look,  nor  a  sent  message, 

But  with  a  kiss  upon  your  cheek.     I  did  it, 

I,  Judas,  and  no  other  man,  and  now 

You  cannot  even  save  me. 

Christ 

Begone  from  me. 
{Three  Roman  soldiers   have  entered.) 

First  Roman  Soldier 
He  has  been  chosen  to  hold  up  the  cross. 

{During  what  follows,  Judas  holds  up  the  cross 
while  Christ  stands  with  His  arms  stretched  out  upon 
it.) 

Second  Roman  Soldier 

We'll  keep  the  rest  away;  they  are  too  persistent; 
They  are  always  wanting  something. 


8o  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Third  Roman  Soldier 

Die  in  peace. 
There's  no  one  here  but  Judas  and  ourselves. 

Christ 
And  who  are  you  that  ask  your  God  for  nothing? 

Third  Roman  Soldier 

We  are  the  gamblers,  and  when  you  are  dead 
We'll  settle  who  is  to  have  that  cloak  of  yours 
By  throwing  dice. 

Second  Roman  Soldier 

Our  dice  were  carved 
Out  of  an  old  sheep's  thigh  at  Ephesus. 

First  Roman  Soldier 

Although  but  one  of  us  can  win  the  cloak 

That  will  not  make  us  quarrel;  what  does  it  matter? 

One  day  one  loses  and  the  next  day  wins. 

Second  Roman  Soldier 

Whatever  happens  is  the  best  we  say 
So  that  it's  unexpected. 

Third  Roman  Soldier 

Had  you  sent 
A  crier  through  the  world  you  had  not  found 
More  comfortable  companions  for  a  deathbed 
Than  three  old  gamblers  that  have  asked  for  nothing. 


CALVARY  8 1 

First  Roman  Soldier 

They  say  you're  good  and  that  you  made  the  world, 
But  it's  no  matter. 

Second  Roman  Soldier 

Come;  now  let  us  dance 
The  dance  of  the  dice-throwers,  for  it  may  be 
He  cannot  live  much  longer  and  has  not  seen  it. 

Third  Roman  Soldier 

If  he  were  but  the  God  of  dice  he'd  know  It, 
But  he  is  not  that  God. 

First  Roman  Soldier 

One  thing  is  plain. 
To  know  that  he  has  nothing  that  we  need 
Must  be  a  comfort  to  him. 

Second  Roman  Soldier 

Begin  the  dance. 

( They  dance  round  the  cross,  moving  as  if  throwing 
dice. ) 

Christ 

My  Father,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  Me  ? 
{Song  of  the  folding  and  unfolding  of  the  cloth.) 

First  Musician 

Lonely  the  sea-bird  lies  at  her  rest. 
Blown  like  a  dawn-blenched  parcel  of  spray 

G 


82  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Upon  the  wind,  or  follows  her  prey 
Under  a  great  wave's  hollowing  crest. 


Second  Musician 
God  has  not  appeared  to  the  birds. 

Third  Musician 

The  geer-eagle  has  chosen  his  part 
In  blue  deep  of  the  upper  air 
Where  one-eyed  day  can  meet  his  stare; 
He  Is  content  with  his  savage  heart. 

Second  Musician 
God  has  not  appeared  to  the  birds. 

First  Musician 

But  where  have  last  year's  cygnets  gone? 
The  lake  Is  empty;  why  do  they  fling 
White  wing  out  beside  white  wing? 
What  can  a  swan  need  but  a  swan? 

Second  Musician 
God  has  not  appeared  to  the  birds. 


NOTE  ON 

THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE  OF 

"AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL" 


83 


NOTE  ON  THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE  OF 
"AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL" 

A  COUPLE  of  years  ago  I  was  sitting  in  my  stall  at  the  Court 
Theatre  in  London  watching  one  of  my  own  plays,  'The  King's 
Threshold.'  In  front  of  me  were  three  people,  seemingly  a 
husband,  a  wife,  and  a  woman  friend.  The  husband  was 
bored ;  he  yawned  and  stretched  himself  and  shifted  in  his  seat, 
and  I  watched  him  with  distress.  I  was  inclined  to  be  angry, 
but  reminded  myself  that  music,  where  there  are  no  satisfying 
audible  words,  bores  me  as  much,  for  I  have  no  ear  or  only 
a  primitive  ear.  Presently  when  the  little  princesses  came 
upon  the  stage  in  their  red  clothes,  the  woman  friend,  who  had 
seemed  also  a  little  bored,  said:  "They  do  things  very  well," 
and  became  attentive.  The  distinguished  painter  who  had 
designed  the  clothes  at  any  rate  could  interest  her.  The  wife, 
who  had  sat  motionless  from  the  first,  said  when  the  curtain 
had  fallen  and  the  applause — was  it  politeness  or  enthusiasm? 
— had  come  to  an  end,  "I  would  not  have  missed  it  for  the 
world."  She  was  perhaps  a  reader  of  my  poetry  who  had 
persuaded  the  others  to  come,  and  she  had  found  a  pleasure 
the  book  could  not  give  her,  in  the  combination  of  words  and 
speech.  Yet  when  I  think  of  my  play,  I  do  not  call  her  to  the 
mind's  eye,  or  even  her  friend  who  found  the  long  red  gloves 
of  the  little  princesses  amusing,  but  always  that  bored  man; 
the  worst  of  it  is  that  I  could  not  pay  my  players,  or  the 
seamstress,  or  the  owner  of  the  stage,  unless  I  could  draw  to 
my  plays  those  who  prefer  light  amusement  or  have  no  ear  for 
verse,  and  fortunately  they  are  all  very  polite. 


86  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

Being  sensitive,  or  not  knowing  how  to  escape  the  chance  of 
sitting  behind  the  wrong  people,  I  have  begun  to  shrink  from 
sending  my  muses  where  they  are  but  half-welcomed ;  and  even 
in  Dublin,  where  the  pit  has  an  ear  for  verse,  I  have  no  longer 
the  appetite  to  carry  me  through  the  daily  rehearsals.  Yet  I 
need  a  theatre;  I  believe  myself  to  be  a  dramatist;  I  desire  to 
show  events  and  not  merely  tell  of  them;  and  two  of  my  best 
friends  were  won  for  me  by  my  plays,  and  I  seem  to  myself 
most  alive  at  the  moment  when  a  room  full  of  people  share  the 
one  lofty  emotion.  My  blunder  has  been  that  I  did  not  discover 
in  my  youth  that  my  theatre  must  be  the  ancient  theatre  that 
can  be  made  by  unrolling  a  carpet  or  marking  out  a  place  with 
a  stick,  or  setting  a  screen  against  the  wall.  Certainly  those 
who  care  for  my  kind  of  poetry  must  be  numerous  enough,  if 
I  can  bring  them  together,  to  pay  half-a-dozen  players  who  can 
bring  all  their  properties  in  a  cab  and  perform  in  their  leisure 
moments. 

I  have  found  my  first  model — and  in  literature  if  we  would 
not  be  parvenus  we  must  have  a  model — in  the  "Noh"  stage 
of  aristocratic  Japan.  I  have  described  in  Certain  Noble  Plays 
of  Japan  (now  included  in  my  Cutting  of  an  Agate)  what  has 
seemed  to  me  important  on  that  most  subtle  stage.  I  do  not 
think  of  my  discovery  as  mere  economy,  for  it  has  been  a  great 
gain  to  get  rid  of  scenery,  to  substitute  for  a  crude  landscape 
painted  upon  canvas  three  performers  who,  sitting  before  the 
wall  or  a  patterned  screen,  describe  landscape  or  event,  and 
accompany  movement  with  drum  and  gong,  or  deepen  the 
emotion  of  the  words  with  zither  or  flute.  Painted  scenery 
after  all  is  unnecessary  to  my  friends  and  to  myself,  for  our 
imagination  kept  living  by  the  arts  can  imagine  a  mountain 
covered  with  thorn-trees  in  a  drawing-room  without  any  great 
trouble,  and  we  have  many  quarrels  with  even  good  scene- 
painting. 

Then  too  the  masks  forced  upon  us  by  the  absence  of  any 
special  lighting,  or  by  the  nearness  of  the  audience  who 
surround   the  players   upon   three  sides,    do   not   seem   to  us 


NOTE  ON  "AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL"     87 

eccentric.  We  are  accustomed  to  faces  of  bronze  and  of 
marble,  and  what  could  be  more  suitable  than  that  Cuchulain, 
let  us  say,  a  half-supernatural  legendary  person,  should  show 
to  us  a  face,  not  made  before  the  looking-glass  by  some  leading 
player — there  too  we  have  many  quarrels — but  moulded  by 
some  distinguished  artist?  We  are  a  learned  people,  and  we 
remember  how  the  Roman  theatre,  when  it  became  more 
intellectual,  abandoned  "make-up"  and  used  the  mask  instead, 
and  that  the  most  famous  artists  of  Japan  modelled  masks  that 
are  still  in  use  after  hundreds  of  years.  It  would  be  a  stirring 
adventure  for  a  poet  and  an  artist,  working  together,  to  create 
once  more  heroic  or  grotesque  types  that,  keeping  always  an 
appropriate  distance  from  life,  would  seem  images  of  those 
profound  emotions  that  exist  only  in  solitude  and  in  silence. 
Nor  has  any  one  told  me  after  a  performance  that  they  have 
missed  a  changing  facial  expression,  for  the  mask  seems  to 
change  with  the  light  that  falls  upon  it,  and  besides  in  poetical 
and  tragic  art,  as  every  "producer"  knows,  expression  is  mainly 
in  those  movements  that  are  of  the  entire  body. 

"At  the  Hawk's  Well"  was  performed  for  the  first  time  in 
April  1916,  in  a  friend's  drawing-room,  and  only  those  who 
cared  for  poetry  were  invited.  It  was  played  upon  the  floor, 
and  the  players  came  in  by  the  same  door  as  the  audience,  and 
the  audience  and  the  players  and  I  myself  were  pleased.  A 
few  days  later  it  was  revived  in  Lady  Islington's  big  drawing- 
room  at  Chesterfield  Gardens  for  the  benefit  of  a  war  charity. 
And  round  the  platform  upon  three  sides  were  three  hundred 
fashionable  people,  including  Queen  Alexandria,  and  once  more 
my  muses  were  but  half  welcome.  I  remember,  however,  with 
a  little  pleasure  that  we  found  a  newspaper  photographer 
planting  his  camera  in  a  dressing-room  and  explained  to  him 
that  as  fifty  people  could  pay  our  expenses,  we  did  not  invite 
the  press,  and  that  flashlight  photographs  were  not  desirable 
for  their  own  sake.  He  was  incredulous  and  persistent — a 
whole  page  somewhere  or  other  was  at  our  disposal — and  it 
was  nearly  ten  minutes  before  we  could  persuade  him  to  go 


88  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

away.  What  a  relief  after  directing  a  theatre  for  so  many 
years — for  I  am  one  of  the  two  directors  of  the  Abbey  Theatre 
in  Dublin — to  think  no  more  of  pictures  unless  Mr.  Dulac  or 
some  other  distinguished  man  has  made  them,  nor  of  all  those 
paragraphs  written  by  young  men,  perhaps  themselves  intel- 
ligent, who  must  applaud  the  common  taste  or  starve! 

Perhaps  I  shall  turn  to  something  else  now  that  our  Japanese 
dancer,  Mr.  Itow,  whose  minute  intensity  of  movement  in  the 
dance  of  the  hawk  so  well  suited  our  small  room  and  private 
art,  has  been  hired  by  a  New  York  theatre,  or  perhaps  I  shall 
find  another  dancer.  I  am  certain,  however,  that  whether  I 
grow  tired  or  not — and  one  does  grow  tired  of  always  quarry- 
ing the  stone  for  one's  statue — I  have  found  out  the  only  way 
the  subtler  forms  of  literature  can  find  dramatic  expression, 
Shakespeare's  art  was  public,  now  resounding  and  declamatory, 
now  lyrical  and  subtle,  but  always  public,  because  poetry  was 
a  part  of  the  general  life  of  a  people  who  had  been  trained  by 
the  Church  to  listen  to  difficult  words,  and  who  sang,  instead 
of  the  songs  of  the  music-halls,  many  songs  that  are  still 
beautiful.  A  man  who  had  sung  "Barbara  Allan"  in  his  own 
house  would  not,  as  I  have  heard  the  gallery  of  the  Lyceum 
Theatre,  receive  the  love  speeches  of  Juliet  with  an  ironical 
chirruping.  We  must  recognize  the  change  as  the  painters  did 
when,  finding  no  longer  palaces  and  churches  to  decorate,  they 
made  framed  pictures  to  hang  upon  a  wall.  Whatever  we 
lose  in  mass  and  in  power  we  should  recover  in  elegance  and 
in  subtlety.  Our  lyrical  and  our  narrative  poetry  alike  have 
used  their  freedom  and  have  approached  nearer,  as  Pater  said 
all  the  arts  would  if  they  were  able,  to  "the  condition  of 
music";  and  if  our  modern  poetical  drama  has  failed,  it  is 
mainly  because,  always  dominated  by  the  example  of  Shakes- 
peare, it  would  restore  an  irrevocable  past. 

W.  B.  Y.,  1916. 


MUSIC  FOR 

"AT  THE   HAWK'S  WELL" 

By  EDMOND  DULAC 


All   rights    of   performance    reserved   by    Edmond   Dtilac 
80 


A  NOTE  ON  THE  INSTRUMENTS 

In  order  to  apply  to  the  music  the  idea  of  great  simplicity  of  execu- 
tion underlying  the  whole  spirit  of  the  performance,  it  was  necessary 
to  use  instruments  that  any  one  with  a  fair  idea  of  music  could  learn 
in  a  few  days. 

The  following  offer  hardly  any  difficulty,  while  they  provide  a 
sufficient  background  of  simple  sounds  which  the  performer  can,  after 
a  very  little  amount  of  practice,   elaborate   at  will. 

A  plain   bamboo   flute   giving  the   appropriate   scale. 

A  harp,  a  drum  and  a  gong.  For  these  last  two,  any  instruments 
on  oriental  lines  with  a  good  shape  and  a  deep  mellow  sound. 

For  the  harp  an  ordinary  zither,  such  as  shown  in  the  design  of 
the  musician,  can  be  used.  The  strings,  beginning  by  the  lower  ones, 
are  grouped  in  nine  or  ten  chords  of  four  notes  consisting  of:  the  key- 
note, two  strings  in  unison  giving  the  fifth  above,  and  the  octave  of 
the  key-note. 


Ex: 


^E=^^ 


Beyond  these  chords  there  are  seven  double  strings  tuned  to  any 
pentatonic  scale  that  suits  the  play. 

The  tuning  of  the  chords  and  free  strings  would  be  altered  ac- 
cording to  the  performance,  and  several  flutes  giving  different  scales 
would  be  required. 

The  same  chords  and  scales  should  be  used  throughout  any  one 
play. 

The  instruments  are  distributed  as  follows:  one  musician  plays 
the  drum  and  gong,  one  the  flute,  the  singer  takes  the  harp. 

The  drum  and  the  gong  must  be  used  at  times  during  the  per- 
formance to  emphasize  the  spoken  word  ;  no  definite  notation  of  this 
can  be  given,  and  it  is  left  to  the  imagination  and  taste  of  the  musi- 
cian. 

Scales  for  the  Instruments 

■The  Harp.  _ 

Free  string!.-  — 


90 


MUSIC  FOR  "AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL" 


30  be  sung  ivithout  accompanimem  as  tkey  unftlJ  Ue  curtain. 


I    call   to  the   eye  of  the   ■  mind    A  well  long  choked  up  and    dry  And 
-i r-4- 


boughs  long  stripped  by  the  wind,      And   I     call     to  the  mind's       eye  Pall  •  or    of   an    '  ivory 

r-1- 


face   Its   lofty  dis-so-lute       air,      A  man  climbing  up  to  a   place  The  salt  sea  wind  has  swept  bare. 


^^^^^&§^^: 


I  have   dreamed  of  a  life  soon     done.  Will  he     lose  by    that  or       win?     A  mo-ther  that  saw  her 

^     3    ^         ^       3     _ 

Gon  Dou-bled      o-vera      speckled    shin  Cross-grained  with  nine-ty      years    Would    cry,  "  How 

m 

Uttlo     -worth  Were  all  my  hopes  and  fears      And  the  hard    pain  of  his       birUil" 


91 


92  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


To  he  sung  at  t^ey  sit  Jown, 


Speaking  : 
'  Night  falls,"  etc. 


heart  would  be  al-ways  a    -    wake,     Theheart  would  turn  to  its        rest. 


"Why  should  I  sleep,"  the  heart         cries,     '"For  the     wind,  the  salt  wind,  the  sea  wind       Is 

mm 


isSz 


MUSIC  FOR  "AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL"  93 


*^i^EW^^^=j^^ip 


Sfitaking  : 
"That  old  man,"  etc. 


beat-ing    a  cloi^d  through  the  skies  ;  1  wouM  wander  aJ  •ways  like  the    wind.'* 


Speakirg  : 
"  He  has  made  a  little  heap  of  leaves,"  etc. 


fc:£^F^E^-HP:^3E^Edi3^^E^  I  j    J_i3rz^ 


Harp. 


'O      wind,    O    salt  wind,    O  sea        wind  I"  Cries  the  bean,  "  it  is  time  to 

l_    ^- \_ 

— S 1 *-'-i *- 


^=3 — \-Z~^=== 


^ 


sleep,       Wby  wander  and  nothing  to      find,  Better  grow    old  and     sleep." 

-i \ s 1 ^-s i— «•- 


PRELUDE  TO  THE  DANCE 


To  begin  wAe'n  tie  TouAg  Man  say: 
"Ah,  you  have  looked  at  her  ■.  .  . ' 
Flute.    Slnu. 


94 


FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


i^^^^^^m 


rfe^g^gpg^p^if^^p^^ 


j-^^^^- 


=ES^ 


MUSIC  FOR  "AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL"  95 


THE  DANCE 

The  Dance  is  played  through  to  Q  A,  begun  again  at  ©  going  to  B, 
begun  again  at  0  and  played  to  the  end,  omitting  the  passage 
from  A  to  B.    Thus  it  ought  to  last  about  3^  minutes. 


!r/?7l  Dance  i:  jo'intl on  to'l^e  Prtlude  ly  a  soft  roll 
on  the  gong  ivhiU  the  girl  begins  to  move. 
Flute, 


^^^H^^Ei^g^i^fei^p^^ 


J  J    j'-j   J' J 


96 


FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


SNE^ii 


"f 


diminuendo    ....        p 


m 


Gong. 


Se^^^ 


cr«      •      cen      'do        •        .        k        . 

1 1 ] ' — 1 ■■ — I i-i — .1 '-^ ■'— 1 f- 


^^^ 


^p=-r 


j'j'j'.msj'j'j'j'j',  .^^j^sj^j-^issj'j'j'imj'S^j'j'j'j'j'j',  jr^ 


Gong. 


Gong. 


MUSIC  FOR  "AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL"      97 


speaking  i 
"  0  God,  protect  me,"  etc. 


i^^^^^^^^^^^m 


■^T^j    j>rj j^izi /2 


^=-- 


Drum.  Gong.  Drum.  Gong.         Drum. 


^^^^m 


,  n  a    !*»,     .^     f*^      gl  "i^ 


very  slow       .       .        •  a  Utile  quicker 


FF 


^^^^^MS. 


/aster  and  faster  to  the  end 

t*.:-*:-^ — --T-* — -1-* — 't^- — \-^ "■ 


J- 


^ 


I'm  J.'^A^  .^JATfTJ^j^^^^jJ^.^^^^^ 


speaking  : 
"  The  madness  has  laid  hold  upon  him." 


jk'j-Ji^J^J±J^ 


ahnipt 


feg=5fe^d^^l^3^^gj;g^Pi=P 


fife^^;^^ 


98 


FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


speaking : 
"  Run  where  you  will 
slower  "^  very  slow 


SI!     p        pp 


-3b*-*»-^ B**-**-' • -' 

.        .        .  ///    airu/t  pp 


Gong; 


Sfeah'mg  •. 
"  I  have  heard  water  splash,'*' 

At  the  end  of  the  Dance  begins  a  soft  roll  on  the  gong 
Harp. 


feliE^EE^lE^^^a 


fi^ 


i^^. 


and  so  on  till  they  ling"  He  has  lost  what  may  oot  be  found 


MUSIC  FOR  "AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL"       99 


heap    his  bu-rial       mound  'And  all  the  history   ends.        He  might  have  lived       at  his  case      An 


^--^^ 


-S?- 


^=g^==:=3Vj^^=^= J^Z;=r=:zrd=^ 


T^-^-- 


To  he  sung  before  they  rise  to  unfold  the  curtain. 


^^^ 


Come  to 


=^^^^^^^^=^^ 


^zz^ 


^ 


r — r 


^^S^^^^^^^^^^^m^^^^ 


me      hu-man  fa-ces,  ,        Fa  •  mi  •  liar  mc-mo  •  ties,  I  have  found     hate-ful    eyes        A 


100  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


mongthe    de-so-late   pU-ces,      Un-faltering,  un-moistened        eyes.         Fol-ly  a-lone  I       cherish 


i^^^afe^ 


I    chose  it    for  my    share,     Be  -  ing  but  a  mouthful  of    air,       I  am  con-tent  to     perish, 

-1- 


I    ambuta  moathfulof       sweet  air.       O  ■  lamentable  shadows,  Obs  •  cu  •  ri  •  ty  of      strife, 


I  choose  a  pleasant  life,      A -mong  in -do-lent     meadows,    Wisdom  must  live  a    bit-ter   life. 


MUSIC  FOR  "AT  THE  HAWK'S  WELL"     loi 


To  le  lung  •while  they  unfold  and  fold  up  the  curtain, 

M^ , : — ..-r- — I r* — ^- 


all  his     days   Where  a  band  oc  the  bell  Cao  callthe  milch  cows     To   the  comfortable  door  ofhis  house. 


sn. 


^^b^ii^i^^ 


Who  but  an  idiot  would      praise       Dry     stones  in  a   well?" 


'  The       man  that  1      praise,"   Cries    out  the       leafless  tree,     "  Has 


married  and  stays  By  an  old  hearth  ajid  he  On  naught  has  set  store     But  children  and  dogs  on  the  floor. 


Who  but  an  idiot  would     praise      a       withered  tre«?" 


NOTE  ON 
"THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER" 


103 


NOTE  ON  "THE  ONLY  JEALOUSY  OF  EMER" 

While  writing  these  plays,  intended  for  some  fifty  people  in 
a  drawing-room  or  a  studio,  I  have  so  rejoiced  in  my  freedom 
from  the  stupidity  of  an  ordinary  audience  that  I  have  filled 
"The  Only  Jealousy  of  Emer"  with  those  little  known  con- 
victions about  the  nature  and  history  of  a  woman's  beauty, 
which  Robartes  found  in  the  Speculum  of  Gyraldus  and  in 
Arabia  Deserta  among  the  Judwalis.  The  soul  through  each 
cycle  of  its  development  is  held  to  incarnate  through  twenty- 
eight  typical  incarnations,  corresponding  to  the  phases  of  the 
moon,  the  light  part  of  the  moon's  disc  sj'^mbolizing  the  sub- 
jective and  the  dark  part  the  objective  nature,  the  wholly  dark 
moon  (called  Phase  1)  and  the  wholly  light  (called  Phase  15) 
symbolizing  complete  objectivity  and  complete  subjectivity 
respectively.  In  a  poem  called  "The  Phases  of  the  Moon"  in 
T//e  Wild  Swans  at  Coole  I  have  described  certain  aspects  of 
this  symbolism  which,  however,  may  take  100  pages  or  more 
of  my  edition  of  the  Robartes  papers,  for,  as  expounded  by 
him,  it  purports  to  be  a  complete  classification  and  analysis  of 
every  possible  type  of  human  intellect.  Phase  1  and  Phase  15 
symbolizing,  however,  two  incarnations  not  visible  to  human 
eyes  nor  having  human  characteristics.  The  invisible  fifteenth 
incarnation  is  that  of  the  greatest  possible  bodily  beauty,  and 
the  fourteenth  and  sixteenth  those  of  the  greatest  beauty  visible 
to  human  eyes.  Much  that  Robartes  has  written  might  be  a 
commentary  on  Castiglione's  saying  that  the  physical  beauty 
of  woman  is  the  spoil  or  monument  of  the  victory  of  the  soul, 
for  physical  beauty,  only  possible  to  subjective  natures,  is  de- 
scribed as  the  result  of  emotional  toil  in  past  lives.  Objective 
natures  are  declared  to  be  always  ugly,  hence  the  disagreeable 
appearance  of  politicians,  reformers,  philanthropists,  and  men 

105 


io6  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

of  science.    A  saint  or  sage  before  his  final  deliverance  has  one 
incarnation  as  a  woman  of  supreme  beauty. 

In  writing  these  little  pla3's  I  knew  that  I  was  creating 
something  which  could  only  fully  succeed  in  a  civilization  very 
unlike  ours.  I  think  they  should  be  written  for  some  country 
where  all  classes  share  in  a  half-mythological,  half-philosophical 
folk-belief  which  the  writer  and  his  small  audience  lift  into 
a  new  subtlety.  All  my  life  I  have  longed  for  such  a  country, 
and  alwaj^s  found  it  quite  impossible  to  write  without  having 
as  much  belief  in  its  real  existence  as  a  child  has  in  that  of 
the  wooden  birds,  beasts,  and  persons  of  his  toy  Noah's  Ark. 
I  have  now  found  all  the  mythology  and  philosophy  I  need  in 
the  papers  of  my  old  friend  and  rival,  Robartes. 


MUSIC*  FOR 
"THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES" 

By  WALTER  MORSE  RUMMEL 
(1917) 


*  See  Note  on  Music,  page  108 

]/lU  rights  of  Performance  reserved  by  W.  M.  Rummel 
107 


Music  of  tone  and  music  of  speech  are  distinct  from  each  other. 

Here  my  sole  object  has  been  to  find  some  tone  formula  ivhich  ivill 
enhance  and  bring  out  a  music  underlying  the  ivords.  The  process 
is  therefore  directly  opposed  to  that  of  tone-music  creation,  ivhich 
from  the  formless  directly  creates  its  tone  form,  ivhereas  I  seek  to 
derive  a  formless  overfloiv  from  the  already  formed. 


First  Musician:  A  medium  •voice,  more  chanting  than  singing,  not 
letting  the  musical  value  of  the  sound  predominate  too  greatly  the 
spoken   value. 

The  First  Musician  uses  a  Plucked  Instrument  (harp  or  zither) 
to  reinforce  the  notes  of  his  song  in  unison  or  in  the  octave.  (It 
is  advisable  not  to  reinforce  each  note  sung,  but  only  each  beat, 
unless  certain  difficulties  of  pitch  would  necessitate  the  reinforcing 
of  such  note.) 

During  the  symphonic  moments  of  the  play  the  Plucked  Instru- 
ment  assumes   a  more  individual  part. 

Second  Musician:     Using  a  Flute,  of  a  soft  and  discreet  quality. 

Third  Musician:  Using  a  Boived  Instrument,  one-stringed,  more  like 
a  Hindu  Sarinda,  perhaps  with  a  sympathetic  vibrating  string, 
giving  a  nasal  sound.  This  part  furnishes  a  bass,  a  sort  of 
horizon  to  the  song,  and  becomes  more  individual  in  the  sym- 
phonic parts  of  the  play. 

Fourth  Musician:  Using  a  Drum,  preferably  also  an  oriental  model, 
played  with  the  palm  and  the  fingers  of  the  hand.  The  drum 
part  is  indicated  by —  (long)  and  "  (short).  The  numbers  below 
these  indications  signify  the  fingers  employed.  The  using  of  the 
palm  of  the  hand  is  indicated  by  P. 

In  case  there  are  only  Three  Musicians,  the  Second  and  Third 
Musicians  can  alternatively  take  the  Drum  part  in  places  where  they 
are  unoccupied. 

All  instrumental  music,  especially  during  the  speaking  parts,  must 
always  leave  the  voice  in  the  foreground. 

W.  M.  R. 


108 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES 

The  stage  is  any  hare  place  in  a  room  ivit/t  a  ivall  beyond  it.     A 
screen  or  curtain  hung  ivith  a  pattern  of  mountain  and  sky  can  i 
stand  against  it,  but  the  pattern  must  only  symbolize  or  suggest.   , 

Three  (four)  Musicians  enter.  One  stands  singing  ivhile  the  others 
sit  down  against  the  ivall  by  their  instruments  luhich  are  already 
there:  a  plucked  instrument,  a  boixed  instrument,  and  flute  and 
drum. 


First  Musician  (singing). 


1ST  Mus.     anxiously  questioning 


hurriedly    .    ,     returning  tDtnmemtnt 


^^^^^^^1^ 


=S=fe-i 


It  passed  but      a     mo-ment    a    -   go. 


^^^ 


AMio     can  have  trod       in    the  grass? 


*  \  Indicates  a  slide  (portamento)  of  the  voice,  after  oriental  fashion— sec  subsequent  applications. 


109 


1 10  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


evenly 


dizzy  dreams  can  Spring  From  the         dry        bones        of  the    dead? 

retarding _sUgh  tly 


And   many    a    night  it  seems  That  all    the  val- ley  fills  With     those  fan-tas-tic     dreams.  They 


over -flow  the    hills,       So  passionate    is      a       shade  Like  wine  that  fills    to  the  top     A 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES      iii 


grey-green    cup      of  jade,  Or    may  -be  an        a  -   gate  cup. 


m^^^^m 


;^^:^ifegEg^ag=--^=^ 


retarding  - 


1ST  Mus.  j  rpj^^  j^^^^  before  dawn  and  the  moon  covered 

[speaking)  I 
3RD  Mus.  1 1^^^=^=^^ 


1ST  Mus. 


2ND    Mus. 

{Flute) 


V 1* — 

up.  The  little  village  of  Abbey  is  covered  up  ; 


^^^ 


I.  The  little  narrow  trodden  way  that  runs 

From  the  white  road  to  the  Abbey  of  Corcomroe 

Is  covered  up ;  and  all  about  the  hills 


I.  Are  like  a  circle  of  Agate  or  of 

'     Jade.  Somewhere  among  great  rocks  on  the  scarce  grass 

r  'j!!^'^- ■ ■^^- 


*  See  footnote,  p.  109. 


1 1 2  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


I.    f  Birds  cry, — they  cry  their  Ipnelinefs. 
1.    f  Even  the  sunlight  can  be  lonely  here. 


Even  hot  noon  is  lonely. 


I  hear  a  footfall — 


:ii 


A  young  man  with  a  lantern  comes  this  way. 


4-     \^ 


I.  He  seems  an  Aran  fisher,  for  he  wears 
The  flannel' bawncen  and  the  cow-hide 
"  shoe.  He  stumbles  wearily  and  stumbling  prays. 


(^  Toung  Man  enters  praying  in  Irish) 

Chorus 


Once  more  the  birds  cry  in  their  loneliness. 


2.  ■ 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES        113 


1.    But  now  they  wheel   about  our  heads ;   and  now 

They  have  dropped  on  the  grey  stone  to  the  north-east. 

{J  Toung  Man  and  Tou!tg  Girl  come  in) 


-~nS!^=^-^ 


PS^^ 


mf 


'^m 


No   music  unlil  page  56,  line  13. 

Young  Man:  For  fear  their  owners  might  find  shelter  there.     What 
is  that  sound? 


V 

^ -"^              ..       =j 

s/==-p    held    ,    .    .    . 

4- 

long    T                     T 

^       I               ^      \ 

s                s 

Stranger: 


An  old  horse 


No  music  until  page  58,  line  18, 
Stranger:    Or  grey  Aughtmana  shake  their  wings  and- 


THE  WALK  AROUND  THE  STAGE 

Two  steps  may  be  taken  to  each  musical  measure,  making  it  a  very 
slow  figurative   step.     This   will   mean   about  24  steps   to   one  walk 


114 


FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


around  the  stage  (Round).  The  last  two  steps  may  be  twice  as  long 
{in  time),  accompanied  by  certain  movements  of  expectancy.  In  cal- 
culating that  each  step  amounts  to  half  a  metre,  the  length  of  the 
stage  would  have  to  be  of  five  metres. 


(C 


5  inetrea 


5  metres 


:  12  metres  in  all. 


If  necessary  the  two  opening  measures  may  be  repeated  at  will,  the 
same  at  beginning  of  each  round. 

As  to  the  spoken  part  preceding  the  song  in  each  round,  this  must 
be  arranged  for  by  the  singer.  The  singing  voice  must  be  able  to 
easily  enter  in  time  at  its  proper  place.  The  spoken  part,  however, 
can  be  begun  before  the  time  indicated  for  it  in  the  music,  or  after, 
according  to  the  speed  of  speech.  The  rhythm  of  the  music  should 
be  sloiv. 

Stranger  :  — cry, 

ICT  ROUND.     In  a  slow  mysterious  rhytltm 

2ND  Mus. 
{Flute) 


IST  Mus.* 


3RD  Mus. 
(Boot  Instr.y 

Steps  : 


Dreatningly^  always  in  background 


Speaking :  They've  passed  the  shallow  well 
and  the  flat  stone  Fouled  by  the 


I 


(righi) 


'■{ 


drinking  cattle,  the  narrow  lane       rhave  carried  Noble  or  peasant  /An  owl  is  crying  out  above 
Where  mourners  for  five  centuries'  to  his  burial.  '  their  heads. 


ot/        Weirdly  expressive  withrut,  however,  covering  the  voice 

5  6  7  8  9  lo 

*  The  4th  Musician  may  double  the  plucked  instrument,  giving  the  same  rhythm. 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES       115 


3=3=?i^ 


tI«U2*r;S=]r 


tt*J;*L-Jpz=r'^ «^-ng5=i 


Expressive  but  in  time  on  account  of  the  walking 


Singing  :   Why  shouki  the  heart  take  fright  , 


'•{ 


fuiie  in  l/ie  iackgrountt 

'3  H 


19  29  ZI  22 

*  All  small  notes  aung  as  indicated,  befare  the  beat,  but  neverthcleaa  very  short. 


ii6 


FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


Vtry  rhythmic  anti  slfon^. 


M 


lil^^^^ii^^^ 


bird  of  March,     begin  to  crow,  Up  with  the  neck  and  clap  the  wing,  Red  cock,  and  crow. 


/    plucked  roughly 


23  pause 

2Nn  ROUND. 


24 


pause 


'■{ 


-J^^- 


^-  {  j^^^^:^^g^;|^^:^==^:^^^|^ 


the  ragged  thorn  trees  and  yhedje  ;  and  the  tomb-nested  owl  At  the 
the  gap  In  the  ancient  '      foot's  level  beats  with  a  vague-wing. 


nnf  ^ 


r=h.T=i_^__ 


Singing :       My 


,i=^-:'s<: 


M^^^^^^m 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES      117 


'•{ 


35":^ 


--•P:^^- 


Vtryr  yhylhmi'c  and  strong 


eSE3Fi!-=SEH^=S 


IE 


-fc=:==: 


/  r 


'^^^^^^^^^ 


Red         bird       of  Marchi         begin         to  crow, 


^^^ 


E* 


£~Et|^»E^i=a^EEE^:^'EsE^^ 


/     plucked  roughly 


ii8 


FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


and  the  scarce  grass  ;  Hidden  Ibfim    The  cat-headed  bird  is  [^^fp:^     ^    ' — ^j-^ 

amid  the  shadow  far  below     •'  crying  out.  |^-^'&'^^^  ^5^1 

Sin^^ng  :  The 


il^^^S 


^i 


s-{ 


^^^(^^l 


10 


II  12, 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES      119 


19 


/     plucked  roughly, 
2  3  pause 


-         I  m .-p.'  I       _        11        SfeaUng— 

&-^^F — Pi           ~-4             ^H    The  Stranger  : 
==^= =^' "    We're  almost,  etc 

No  music 


1 20  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


CLOSING  SONG 


The  Musician  singing 


■JD  Mus.  •[ 

f 


3RD  Mus. 


i^ 


;=pd 


At    the  grey  round    of  the  hill  Mus  •  ic  of  a    lost  kingdom  Runs, 


^^^^^^^^^^^^^J 


S 


m 


inf  J^ 


-P — *-^--^=; 


ilHi^^M^i^^li^^ 


runs    and  is  suddenly        still.  The     winds    out  of  Clare-Gal-way    Carry  it : 


excessive 


^^^ ^— ^^|7pz:e:=g-|izJ=:=- 


t— T 


deeply  expressive 


m 


^gl^^li^iipi£iliiilfl^^^3 


1,1/ 

Slo-Ming  up  a  Utile  In  time 


■mf 


1  have 


deeply  expressive 


m 


■mf  S         V 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES      121 


deeply  expressive 


deeply  expressive 


C amine  out  plaintively,  ■wiHunti  disturbing  the  melody 


1^ 


What  fin  •  ger       first  began  Mu    •    sic  of  a    lost      Itingdom? 

_^_„ « =, — '!*•      *       a r"P"       "        m        I 


^lig^-S: 


^^^^^^i^gj 


fe^^ 


^ 


w/- 


122  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


Thoss  crazy  fingers         play       A 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES      123 


wandering   airy       music;      Our  luck  is  withered  a  •  way,  And  wheat   in  the  wheat  •  ear 


'^^^^m^m 


c  ■  ^KKy  ^^«-f^ ' 


getting: fainter ^^     . 


i^=Sfi^^l^^^i^^-fes^E=^ 


'ithered, 


And  the       wind  blows     It     a    -    way. 


^^^m 


^^i^^i^H-^ 


Very  tense  • 


motto  r  More  vigorous  aTid  alive ^ 


124  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 


cry    before    the  dawn         And  the  eddying  cat- headed  bird  ; 


^P^|i5^^igEg^|g^gE^^EE|g^gE^^|-:^_E_^l 


'^M^^^^^=]E^=m3^=m. 


ca!mas:a!n_        ^. ..^gjl  /S|l 


;  J*;*.*!*:!  raLZJEjjg'-*  *-*:U 


-b-- 


1^  fr — ^ 


^^^^^^^^^^^^m 


But       now     the     night        is     gone. 


tm-m— — fim-fs. 


&^^EE 


EEfc 


^L^^^.=^.|gzg=g.^-^g^zzr;£j^g==_:^|^ 


/  nushly  f  lucked 


THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES      125 


neck       and  clap       the  wing,        .     '.        .        .       .        Red  cocks,  and  crow. 

^ a>     « • ^~~ — ~-^ ~^ 


sfi  ■>■  p 


like  a  sigh 


Paris,  Sefiemher  1917. 


NOTE  ON 
"THE  DREAMING  OF  THE   BONES" 


137 


NOTE  ON  "THE  DREAMING  OF  THE  BONES" 

Dervorgilla's  few  lines  can  be  given,  if  need  be,  to  Dermot, 
and  Dervorgilla's  part  taken  by  a  dancer  who  has  the  training 
of  a  dancer  alone;  nor  need  that  masked  dancer  be  a  woman. 

The  conception  of  the  play  is  derived  from  the  world-wide 
belief  that  the  dead  dream  back,  for  a  certain  time,  through 
the  more  personal  thoughts  and  deeds  of  life.  The  wicked, 
according  to  Cornelius  Agrippa,  dream  themselves  to  be  con- 
sumed by  flames  and  persecuted  by  demons;  and  there  is  pre- 
cisely the  same  thought  In  a  Japanese  "Noh"  play,  where  a 
spirit,  advised  by  a  Buddhist  priest  she  has  met  upon  the  road, 
seeks  to  escape  from  the  flames  by  ceasing  to  believe  in  the 
dream.  The  lovers  in  my  play  have  lost  themselves  in  a  different 
but  still  self-created  winding  of  the  labyrinth  of  conscience. 
The  Judwalis  distinguish  between  the  Shade  which  dreams 
back  through  events  in  the  order  of  their  intensity,  becoming 
happier  as  the  more  painful  and,  therefore,  more  intense  wear 
themselves  away,  and  the  Spiritual  Being,  which  lives  back 
through  events  In  the  order  of  their  occurrence,  this  living  back 
being   an   exploration   of   their   moral    and    intellectual   origin. 

All  solar  natures,  to  use  the  Arabian  terms,  during  life  move 
towards  a  more  objective  form  of  experience,  the  lunar  towards 
a  more  subjective.  After  death  a  lunar  man,  reversing  the 
Intellectual  order,  grows  always  closer  to  objective  experience, 
which  in  the  spiritual  world  Is  wisdom,  while  a  solar  man 
mounts  gradually  to  the  most  extreme  subjective  experience 
possible  to  him.  In  the  spiritual  world  subjectivity  is  Innocence, 
and  innocence,  in  life  an  accident  of  nature,  is  now  the  highest 

129 

K 


I30  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

achievement  of  the  intellect.     I  have  already  put  the  thought 
in  verse. 

He    grows    younger    every    second 

That  were   all   his   birthdays    reckoned 

Much  too  solemn  seemed  ; 

Because  of  what  he  had   dreamed, 

Or  the   ambitions  that  he  served, 

Much   too  solemn   and    reserved. 

Jaunting,   journeying 

To  his  own   dayspring, 

He  unpacks  the  loaded  pern 

Of  all  'twas  pain  or  joy  to  learn. 

Of  all  that  he  had   made. 

The  outrageous  war  shall  fade; 

At  some  old  winding  whitethorn   root 

He'll    practise    on    the    shepherd's    flute, 

Or  on  the  close-cropped  grass 

Court  his   shepherd   lass, 

Or  run  where  lads   reform  our  daytime 

Till  that  is  their  long  shouting  playtime; 

Knowledge  he  shall  unwind 

Through  victories  of  the  mind, 

Till,  clambering  at  the  cradle  side, 

He   dreams   himself   his   mother's   pride, 

All  knowledge  lost  in  trance 

Of  sweeter  ignorance. 

The  Shade  is  said  to  fade  out  at  last,  but  the  Spiritual  Being 
does  not  fade,  passing  on  to  other  states  of  existence  after  it 
has  attained  a  spiritual  state,  of  which  the  surroundings  and 
aptitudes  of  early  life  are  a  correspondence.  When,  as  in  my 
poem,  I  speak  of  events  while  describing  the  ascent  of  the 
Spiritual  Being,  I  but  use  them  as  correspondence  or  symbol. 
Robartes  writes  to  John  Aherne,  under  the  date  of  May  1917, 
a  curious  letter  on  this  subject:  "There  is  an  analogy  between 
the  dreaming  back  of  the  Body  of  Passion"  (I  have  used  instead 
of  this  term  the  more  usual  term  Shade),  "and  our  ordinary 
dreams — and  between  the  life  of  Spirit  and  Celestial  Body 
taken  together"  (I  have  substituted  for  both  terms  the  less 
technical,  though,  I  fear,  vague  term  Spiritual  Being),  "and 
those  coherent  thoughts  of  dreamless  sleep,  which,  as  I  know 


"THE   DREAMING   OF  THE   BONES"  131 

on  my  personal  knowledge,  coincide  with  dreams.  These 
dreams  are  at  one  time  their  symbols,  and  at  another  live  with 
an  independent  life.  I  have  several  times  been  present  while 
my  friend,  an  Arab  doctor  in  Bagdad,  carried  on  long  conversa- 
tions with  a  sleeping  man,  I  do  not  say  a  hypnotized  man, 
or  even  a  somnambulist,  for  the  sleep  seemed  natural  sleep 
produced  by  fatigue,  though  sometimes  with  a  curious  sudden- 
ness. The  sleeper  would  discuss  the  most  profound  truths  and 
yet  while  doing  so  make,  now  and  again,  some  movement  that 
suggested  dreaming,  although  the  part  that  spoke  remained 
entirely  unconscious  of  the  dream.  On  waking  he  would  often 
describe  a  long  dream,  sometimes  a  symbolic  reflection  of  the 
conversation,  but  more  often  produced  by  some  external  stim- 
ulus— a  fall  in  temperature  in  the  rooms,  or  some  condition 
of  body  perhaps.  Now  and  again  these  dreams  would  interrupt 
the  conversation,  as  when  he  dreamed  he  had  feathers  in  his 
mouth  and  began  to  blow.  Seeing,  therefore,  that  I  have 
observed  a  separation  between  two  parts  of  the  nature  during 
life,  I  find  no  difficulty  in  believing  in  a  more  complete  separa- 
tion, affirmed  by  my  teachers,  and  supported  by  so  much  tradi- 
tion, when  the  body  is  no  longer  there  to  hold  the  two  parts 
together." 

I  wrote  my  play  before  the  Robartes  papers  came  into  my 
hands,  and  in  making  the  penance  of  Dermot  and  Dervorgilla 
last  so  many  centuries  I  have  done  som.ething  for  which  I  had 
no  warrant  in  these  papers,  but  warrant  there  certainly  is  in 
the  folk-lore  of  all  countries.  At  certain  moments  the  Spiritual 
Being,  or  rather  that  part  of  it  which  Robartes  calls  "the 
Spirit,"  is  said  to  enter  into  the  Shade,  and  during  those 
moments  it  can  converse  with  living  men,  though  but  within 
the  narrow  limits  of  its  dream. 


K  2 


NOTE  ON  "CALVARY" 


133 


NOTE  ON  "CALVARY" 

I  HAVE  written  the  little  songs  of  the  chorus  to  please  myself, 
confident  that  singer  and  composer,  when  the  time  came  for 
performance,  would  certainly  make  it  impossible  for  the  audi- 
ence to  know  what  the  words  were.  I  used  to  think  that  sing- 
ers should  sing  a  recipe  for  a  good  dish,  or  a  list  of  local  trains, 
or  something  else  they  want  to  get  by  heart,  but  I  have  changed 
my  mind  and  now  I  prefer  to  give  him  some  mystery  or  secret. 
A  reader  can  always  solve  the  mystery  and  learn  the  secret  by 
turning  to  a  note,  which  need  not  be  as  long  as  those  Dante 
put  to  several  of  the  odes  in  the  Coiivito.  I  use  birds  as  symbols 
of  subjective  life,  and  my  reason  for  this,  and  for  certain  other 
things,  cannot  be  explained  fully  till  I  have  published  some  part 
at  any  rate  of  those  papers  of  Michael  Robartes,  over  which 
I  have  now  spent  several  years.  The  following  passage  in  a 
letter  written  by  Robartes  to  Aherne  in  the  spring  of  1917 
must  suffice.  "At  present  I  rather  pride  myself  on  believing 
all  the  superstitions  of  the  Judwalis,  or  rather  in  believing  that 
there  is  not  one  amongst  them  that  may  not  be  true,  but  at  first 
my  West  European  mind  rebelled.  Once  in  the  early  morning, 
when  I  was  living  in  a  horse-hair  tent  among  other  similar 
tents,  a  young  Arab  woke  me  and  told  me  to  come  with  him 
if  I  would  see  a  great  wonder.  He  brought  me  to  a  level  place 
in  the  sand,  just  outside  the  tent  of  a  certain  Arab,  who  had 
arrived  the  night  before  and  had,  as  I  knew,  a  reputation  as 
a  wonder-worker,  and  showed  me  certain  marks  on  the  sand. 
I  said  they  were  the  marks  of  a  jackal,  but  he  would  not  have 
this.  When  he  had  passed  by  a  little  after  sunrise  there  was 
not  a  mark,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  marks  were  there.  No 
beast  could  have  come  and  gone  unseen.  When  I  asked  his 
explanation  he  said  they  were  made  by  the  wonder-worker's 
'Daimon'  or  'Angel.'     'What,'  I  said,  'has  it  a  beast's  form?' 

135 


13^  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

'He  goes  much  about  the  world,'  he  said;  'he  has  been  in  Persia 
and  in  Afghanistan,  and  as  far  west  as  Tripoli.  He  is  inter- 
ested in  things,  in  places,  he  likes  to  be  with  many  people,  and 
that  is  why  his  Daimon  has  the  form  of  a  beast,  but  your 
Daimon  would  have  a  bird's  shape  because  you  are  a  solitary 
man.'  Later  on,  when  I  mastered  their  philosophy,  I  came  to 
learn  that  the  boy  had  but  classified  the  wonder-worker  and 
myself  according  to  their  division  of  all  mankind  into  those 
who  are  dominated  by  objects  and  those  who  are  dominated 
by  the  self  or  Zat,  or,  as  we  would  say,  into  objective  and 
subjective  natures.  Certain  birds,  especially  as  I  see  things, 
such  lonely  birds  as  the  heron,  hawk,  eagle,  and  swan,  are  the 
natural  symbols  of  subjectivity,  especially  when  floating  upon 
the  wind  alone  or  alighting  upon  some  pool  or  river,  while  the 
beasts  that  run  upon  the  ground,  especially  those  that  run  in 
packs,  are  the  natural  symbols  of  objective  man.  Objective 
men,  however  personally  alone,  are  never  alone  in  their 
thought,  which  is  always  developed  in  agreement  or  in  conflict 
with  the  thought  of  others  and  always  seeks  the  welfare  of 
some  cause  or  institution,  while  subjective  men  are  the  more 
lonely  the  more  they  are  true  to  type,  seeking  always  that 
which  is  unique  or  personal." 

I  have  used  my  bird-symbolism  in  these  songs  to  increase  the 
objective  loneliness  of  Christ  by  contrasting  it  with  a  loneliness, 
opposite  in  kind,  that  unlike  His  can  be,  whether  joyous  or 
sorrowful,  sufficient  to  itself.  I  have  surrounded  Him  with 
the  images  of  those  He  cannot  save,  not  only  with  the  birds, 
who  have  served  neither  God  nor  Caesar,  and  await  for  none 
or  for  a  different  saviour,  but  with  Lazarus  and  Judas  and  the 
Roman  soldiers  for  whom  He  has  died  in  vain.  "Christ," 
writes  Robartes,  "only  pitied  those  whose  suffering  is  rooted 
in  death,  in  poverty,  or  in  sickness,  or  in  sin,  in  some  shape  of 
the  common  lot,  and  he  came  especially  to  the  poor  who  are 
most  subject  to  exterior  vicissitude."  I  have  therefore  repre- 
sented in  Lazarus  and  Judas  types  of  that  intellectual  despair 
that  lay  beyond   His  sympathy,  while  in  the  Roman  soldiers 


NOTE  ON  "CALVARY"  137 

I  suggest  a  form  of  objectivity  that  lay  beyond  His  help. 
Robartes  said  in  one  of  the  conversations  recorded  by  Aherne: 
"I  heard  much  of  Three  Songs  of  Joy,  written  by  a  certain  old 
Arab,  which  owing  to  the  circumstances  of  their  origin  were 
considered  as  proofs  of  great  sanctity.  He  held  the  faith  of 
Kusta  ben  Luki,  but  did  not  live  with  any  of  the  two  or  three 
wandering  companies  of  Judwalis.  He  lived  in  the  town  of 
Hayel  as  servant  to  a  rich  Arab  merchant.  He  himself  had 
been  a  rich  merchant  of  Aneyza  and  had  been  several  times  to 
India.  On  his  return  from  one  of  these  journeys  he  had  found 
his  house  in  possession  of  an  enemy  and  was  himself  driven 
from  Aneyza  by  the  Wahabies  on  some  charge,  I  think  of 
impiety,  and  it  was  then  he  made  his  first  song  of  joy.  A  few 
years  later  his  wife  and  child  were  murdered  by  robbers  in  the 
desert,  and  after  certain  weeks,  during  which  it  was  thought 
that  he  must  die  of  grief,  his  face  cleared  and  his  step  grew 
firm  and  he  made  his  second  song.  He  gave  away  all  his  goods 
and  became  a  servant  in  Hayel,  and  a  year  or  two  later,  believ- 
ing that  his  death  was  near,  he  made  his  third  song  of  joy. 
He  lived,  however,  for  several  months,  and  when  I  met  him 
had  the  use  of  all  his  faculties.  I  asked  him  about  the  'Three 
Songs,'  for  I  knew  that  even  on  his  deathbed,  as  became  the 
votary  of  a  small  contentious  sect,  he  would  delight  in  exposi- 
tion. I  said,  (though  I  knew  from  his  songs  themselves,  that 
this  was  not  his  thought,  but  I  wanted  his  explanation  in  his 
own  words)  :  'You  have  rejoiced  that  the  Will  of  God  should 
be  done  even  though  you  and  yours  must  suffer.'  He  answered 
with  some  emotion:  *Oh,  no,  Kusta  ben  Luki  has  taught  us 
to  divide  all  things  into  Chance  and  Choice;  one  can  think 
about  the  world  and  about  man,  or  anything  else  until  all  has 
vanished  but  these  two  things,  for  they  are  indeed  the  first 
cause  of  the  animate  and  inanimate  world.  They  exist  in  God, 
for  if  they  did  not  He  would  not  have  freedom,  He  would  be 
bound  by  His  own  Choice.  In  God  alone,  indeed,  can  they 
be  united,  yet  each  be  perfect  and  without  limit  or  hindrance. 
If  I  should  throw  from  the  dice-box  there  would  be  but  six 


138  FOUR  PLAYS  FOR  DANCERS 

possible  sides  on  each  of  the  dice,  but  when  God  throws  He 
uses  dice  that  have  all  numbers  and  sides.  Some  worship  His 
Choice;  that  is  easy;  to  know  that  He  has  willed  for  some 
unknown  purpose  all  that  happens  is  pleasant ;  but  I  have  spent 
my  life  in  worshipping  His  Chance,  and  that  moment  when 
I  understand  the  immensity  of  His  Chance  is  the  moment  when 
I  am  nearest  Him.  Because  it  is  very  difficult  and  because 
I  have  put  my  understanding  into  three  songs  I  am  famous 
among  my  people.'  " 


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